


Eat My Shorts (I Hate You More Than You Could Know)

by captainrighthook



Series: Hell High [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance, The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:29:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainrighthook/pseuds/captainrighthook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For two people who come from opposite sides of the spectrum, being around one another is horrible. Unless, of course, you happen to be in love with each other... then it's pure torture. It's Saturday morning, and kids should not be in school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I’d Rather Make Mistakes Than Nothing At All [F]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday morning, 7:15 (eleven minutes late), and instead of being in bed—like I totally fucking should be—I’m here. At school. For detention.

 

“Stop there and let me correct it; I wanna live a life from a new perspective.

[…] It’s not fair, just let me perfect it; don’t wanna live a life that is comprehensive.

Cause seeing clear would be a bad idea. Now catch me up, I’m gettin’ outta here.”

- _Panic! At the Disco; New Perspective_

* * *

 

_Fuck. This. Shit._

I am so totally done with the world; good-bye, and thanks for fucking nothing! I mean, seriously?! What am I even doing here? I _don’t_ _even_ _know_ what I’m fucking doing here! Let’s see… it’s Saturday morning, 7:15 (eleven minutes late), and instead of being in bed— _like I totally fucking should be_ —I’m here. At school. For detention.

As I walk into the library, my heart sinks; I recognize the four other boys sitting among the small wooden tables. I then start to wonder why I even decided to show up today. It’s not like today is any different than any other Saturday! I always have detention on the weekends, and I’ve _never come_. Seeing these guys…I actually start to understand why.

People… _blah_. I hate people.

I’m walking to a table that’s semi-secluded, but as I do, I make eye contact with the guy on the other side of the room; Bob Bryar, who is totally a stereotypical example of a jock. He’s not the _worst_ of them all (all the kids in school that is), but he’s up there; I mean, shoving me in the lockers freshman year? Dumping food on me? There’s a whole fucking list, but I’d rather not get into it. Luckily, he fucking stopped after I taught him a lesson, but I can tell the urge is still there: The urge to kick my teeth in.

I sink into a chair and prop my feet up on it. I close my eyes and put my hands behind my head.

_Sigh…_

Maybe if nobody attempts to talk to me, today might be not—

“Hi!” I open one eye and look at the boy sitting at the table across from mine. _Ray Toro_. Totally the biggest nerd I’ve ever come across. He’s significantly bigger than I am, but that hasn’t stopped me from shoving him around a bit—it’s just so much damn fun! I look around to see if there’s anyone else in the near vicinity.

There isn’t.

“Yeah! I’m talking to you!” He’s smiling brightly and his enormous cloud of hair bounces slightly. He really doesn’t harbor any bad feelings towards me, does he? He’s just so advertently happy about the most fucking ridiculous shit. I don’t like it. I flip him off and pull out my lighter and a cigarette. I start the flame, but then…

“No! Don’t do that!” I sigh in frustration and look up. Ray is holding out his hands like he can stop me from fucking ten feet away, and his face is worried. I look at him, and then I really can’t help but notice his hair. It’s so fucking annoyingly awesome (and I kinda want to touch it), but if you ever fucking tell someone I said that, I _will_ kill you.

I glare at him and he looks away, uncomfortably. I let out a short breath and start to light it, and yeah, he totally fucking stops me…again. I’m pinching the bridge of my nose as he starts talking, “Seriously, Frank, don’t do that!”

My head snaps up and I’m looking at him murderously, “Don’t.” I grit out. “Don’t fucking talk to me. Ever.”

I hear someone behind me scoff, “Oh my God, don’t be such a jerk, okay?” Oh…now _that_ voice takes me by surprise. I turn around and, two tables over, two boys sit side by side. Mikey Way (the most certifiably insane, and also really fucking awesome, person I’ve ever come across), and his brother…fucking Gerard Way (one of the most popular—that doesn’t mean people like him—kids in the entire school). Gerard is what I like to call an asshat dickwad.  He looks angry and annoyed. Mikey is just staring at something nobody but him can see.

“Oh, you’re one to fucking talk, Princess. All _you_ ever do is be an insufferable shitfuck.” His eyes get wide in anger, and his face turns a nice shade of pink, but he’s more pissed off than embarrassed. I love to piss people off; it’s a hobby, and one that I’m good at. Especially Gerard, considering how I feel about him. I can’t really tell if I like him, or like to make fun of him. I like to make him squirm, that much I’m sure of.

He opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it quickly when he sees the principal walk in. “Okay, you group of spoiled, annoying degenerates,” Mr. Beckett glances at Ray. “And Raymond,” he adds reluctantly. “You are all here because of one thing! You broke the rules, and now you will suffer the appropriate consequences.” I snort a laugh and smile innocently when Mr. Beckett shoots venom from his eyes right into the very core of my soul.

“I’m glad you think this is funny, Mr. Iero,” he says snidely.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” I smirk. “I think it’s _fucking_ _hilarious_.” I wonder how much more I’d have to talk to get him to murder me. Probably not much more than that. I don’t have to look at Gerard, Bob, and Ray to know their faces are that of shock and nervousness. Mikey probably doesn’t even fucking know what’s going on.

“I would assign you two more months of detention,” Mr. Beckett is tight-lipped. “But it’s not as if you come to them in the first place. Actually, I’m almost impressed to see you here today.”

“I couldn’t miss seeing your lovely smiling face,” I smile so sickeningly sweet that I think _I’m_ going to be sick.

“Well, have fun describing my _lovely smiling face_ ,” he grabs a stack of paper from the table in front of him, “because you’re going to be writing all about it. I want each and every one of you to write a 1,000 word essay on who you are, and why you’re here.”

Everyone—even fucking Ray—groans. I raise my hand, “Yeah, no, I’m not gonna do that…but thou hast made a valiant effort.” I nod solemnly.

He slams a piece of paper down on my table; I don’t even blink. “It’s not really optional.” I sigh, bored, and watch the vein in his forehead throb, wondering if it’ll burst. _This is going to be a long-ass day_.

He continues to hand out the paper and then returns to the front of the room, “Nobody moves, nobody talks, nobody damages school property,” he was talking to all of us, but staring at me. I raise one eyebrow, my expression otherwise blank. “I won’t be back until nine, but I expect you to have made progress by then.” Again; talking directly to me. I salute him, and his eyes narrow, but he turns on his heel and walks away. He closes the door behind him.

When I’m sure he’s out of ear-shot, “Fuck this shit.” I pull my lighter out again.

Gerard regards me carefully, “What are you doing with that?” He sounds uneasy.

“What does it look like, Princess?” I sneer, holding the flame below the paper.

“No!” Ray exclaims, “Don’t do that!” He gets out of his seat, and I wet my fingers, putting out the small flame that had started at the edge of the corner. I look at Ray, shocked, and _tsk_ him.

“Raymond Toro,” I scold. “It hasn’t even been a minute, and you’re already breaking the rules? I’m ashamed.” Ray looks quite ashamed as well when he realizes that I’m not even making this shit up. He sinks back down in his chair and looks down at his hands in his lap.

“Stop being a jerk,” it’s Bob who speaks this time.

I smile wickedly at him, “Aw, nice to see you too Robert.”

He stands up, looking as if he could launch himself at me, “Don’t fucking call me that, you midget!” He’s not afraid to insult me, because he’s not scared of me. But fucking _nobody_ makes fun of my height. I stand up and turn my gaze on him.

My eyes flash, “ _What_?” I ask slowly, accentuating the ‘t’. Okay he’s not _scared_ of me, but he’s scared of what I might do (and he should be, because I can fuck shit up).

“…Nothing.” He mumbles under his breath before sitting back down.

I try to calm myself down, and once I have I scrunch up my nose and look at them all distastefully. “Nobody moves…nobody talks…and nobody damages school property.” I look around at the shelves of books. “Well, we’ve already broken two rules, so why not break them all?” It’s a rhetorical question.

I saunter over to the ‘non-fiction’ section and pick out a book on biology. Everyone—even Mikey—is watching me warily. I hold the book up to them, nodding my head acceptingly. Then I take it and tear it right down the middle of the binding. Ray makes this rather embarrassing little squeaking sound, Bob clenches his fists, Gerard’s mouth falls open, and Mikey just says ‘ _No_ ’.

“Merry Christmas to me!” I yell as I throw the two halves into the sky and walk away as if nothing had happened.

“Frank, you can’t just do that!” Gerard stands up and points at me.


	2. Fool Like Me [G]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One more word out of your uneducated mouth,” he says, his nostrils flaring and his fists clenched, “and I will move you to a different room.”

“I don’t even read what the papers gotta say about me. Oh, no I can’t believe they take it so serious.

Seriously? […] So cynical; poor baby. I can dish it, cause I know how to take it.

You’re never gonna win ‘em all, so fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke. Ha, I’m just playin’.”

- _Cobra Starship; Guilty Pleasure_  


* * *

“Frank, you can’t just do that!” I stand up and point at him. What the hell does he think he’s doing? He doesn’t run the goddamned place! He can’t just…he—I don’t…he can’t, okay? He just can’t! He _always_ pulls shit like this. I really shouldn’t even be surprised. That’s just who he is, and at the same time, it’s totally not; I know, for a fact, that Frank Iero is smart. Almost a genius.

I was the one who had to file out all of the ACT scores, and out of pure curiosity I checked what he got…and I nearly peed myself. The idiot got a 36 on it, _and_ he got a fuck ton of Ivy-League scholarships—practically full rides. Like, fucking _Yale_ wants him, but Frank? Yeah, he wants _nothing_ to do with them.

“Aw,” he frowns at me. “Did I upset the Princess? Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you! Oh, want me to tell you a story?” _Ugh_ , I fucking _hate_ it when he uses that voice with me. It’s like he thinks I’m a little kid. Well, I’m not a fucking little kid, okay? In fact, I think I’m older than him!

“I don’t want to hear it,” I roll my eyes and sit back down. Then I smile sarcastically, “Maybe later.” Luckily Frank takes things with a grain of salt, and he winks at me before pulling off his leather jacket and throwing them on his table only to reveal a Rolling Stones t-shirt. I smile slightly, and then make a face once I realize: Am I smiling at something about Frank Iero? No. That’s weird.

“You might as well brace yourself,” Bob says. “He’ll tell us whether we want to hear it or not.” Frank dances around Bob’s table in a surprisingly graceful manner (I’m actually secretly impressed), and then smiles slyly at him.

“Well,” he starts, sounding innocent and sincere. “Not if the Princess doesn’t want me to. I love to serve Her-Royal- _Pain_ - _In_ - _My_ - _Ass_.” He glares at me and then rolls his eyes. My heart skips a beat, and I don’t fucking know why. That just kinda happens whenever he pays any attention to me.

I roll my eyes, but he just blows me a kiss. I feel my face getting hot, and out of the corner of my eye I see Mikey giving me a strange look. I just ignore it. I recognize this as the ‘Get-Your-Head-Outta-Your-Ass-What-The-Fuck-Is-Wrong-With-You’ look. I only get this look from Mikey, and I only get it when I’m being a ‘love-struck idiot’ as he likes to call it. I’m not in love. I’m just not. And definitely not with Frank Iero!

The last thing I want to do ever in my entire lifetime _ever_ is explain to someone— _especially Mikey_ —how I am so horribly and guiltily attracted to Frank Iero. So attracted to the point where I get a hard-on every time I fucking think about him. Or think about fucking him.

But I totally don’t like him! Not even a little bit; not in a million years. I mean, he’s just so mysterious and rebellious you can’t help but…want him. Even if I wasn’t attracted to him, there are a billion reasons I’d still find him attractive. First of all: his face. I don’t know if you’ve seen that face, but that face could stop traffic. That face could turn an activist against gay rights into the most flaming and fabulous homosexual to ever exist ever. Second of all: his fucking _eyes_! They’re huge, and round, and bright green, and so expressive that I can’t – I can’t even.

Then there’s the fact that he always wears jeans with holes in them and that make his ass look good, and fingerless skeleton gloves (which are really fucking cool), and a _lot_ of black eyeliner, and his hair is so black it’s impossible and it’s also cut so that it kinda hangs over his eye, and wears band t-shirts, and holy shit I sound like a girl fangirling over their favourite band members. Either way, that’s why I’m _attracted_ to him and not _in love_ with him, okay? Yeah. Okay.

“I think I’m going to go sleep on the English-Lit of the Nineteenth Century.” Frank says casually, walking away and ignoring Ray’s pleas for him to just “ _come back here”_! I don’t realize I’m doing it (I rarely ever do), but I’m totally staring at Frank’s ass.

I can’t help it! It’s just…it’s so – it’s a nice ass, okay? Nobody would mind looking at it, and maybe _I_ don’t notice that I’m staring, but someone else certainly does.  “Gerard, are you staring?” I jump slightly, and my piece of paper almost falls off the table, so I try to save it, and just end up flailing like an idiot.

Finally I slam my hands on the table and look at Mikey. “No,” I lie easily, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. It might have something to do with the fact that he’s my brother, or it might have something to do with the fact that my face is probably the colour of a tomato.

“’Kay, well, stop not-staring,” he nods once and then goes back to drawing tiny unicorns on his paper. I smile; Mikey just loves unicorns. I turn around and look at Bob who just smiles at me—or does his version of smiling—and then at Ray who looks away nervously. What’s that about? I shrug it off anyways and look at the pencil in my hand. I don’t usually act like myself in public and it leaves me debating whether I should draw zombies eating each other or just start writing. Eventually, creativity wins out and my pencil is easily sketching every line in abstract but skillful detail.

I don’t pay attention to how long I’ve been drawing until I notice the principal walks back in. Feeling flustered, I quickly crumple up the paper and stick it in my pocket. I feel bad that I haven’t started the paper, but at the same time, there are, like, six more hours to do it so…

“I see that nearly none of you have done anything productive in my time gone.” He says, sounding not surprised, but still disappointed. “Well, no matter, we can just make the day longer and, let’s say, you all stay another hour?”

No. _No fucking way_. There is no fucking way that’s serious! Is he serious?! He looks pretty fucking serious, and I’m not feeling too good about it. “Sir, with all due respect, I find that punishment to be a bit harsh seeing as we have six more hours to complete the essay.” Beckett regards me with interest, and I squirm under his gaze.

“Mr. Way, I am not lengthening the punishment in order to allow more time to complete it,” he explains. “I am lengthening the punishment in reply to the poor sense of responsibility demonstrated by all of you.” I nod uncomfortably, and look away.

“Uh, I’m not staying for that extra hour…or the four before that.” I’m shocked, and surprised to see Frank. I thought he was sleeping? When did he get back?

“Ten minutes ago,” Mikey says, noting my surprise and guessing why. I nod and he nods, and then we both sigh and listen to the conversation at hand.

“…this is so fucking stupid, like…I don’t even.” Frank shakes his head.

“Mr. Iero, I’m going to have to request that you revise your vocabulary. It’s rather poor and you sound like an illiterate sixth grader going through a mid-life crisis.”

“You would know.” Frank says, shrugging. Mr. Beckett might actually explode; I can visibly see him shaking with anger and I’m pretty sure I’m smiling, but I don’t really care.

“One more word out of your uneducated mouth,” he says, his nostrils flaring and his fists clenched, “and I will move you to a different room.”

“Mr. Beckett,” Frank says standing up and putting his hands behind his back and starts to pace back and forth along the back of the room. He’s not looking at anyone. “I am not positive if you are aware of the implications of the situation that you’ve, rather negligently, placed me in. To you I can swear on my most prized and valuable Doom Patrol comics and slightly aged, yet incredibly sentimental, Misfits CD, that my intentions were not aimed to upset you.

“No, my intentions were to expose you as rather foolish, and an imbecile, and may I just say, I seem to be succeeding. Furthermore, I wish for you to understand that this punishment, this _detention_ , is optional, I don’t have to be here, and I will gladly retire to the outside world at any moment you desire. Lastly, I respectfully invite you to remove the straight piece of wood that seems to be stuck up your derrière.”

Frank stops and turns to Mr. Beckett, who has been shocked and stunned into silence, looking very embarrassed. Frank looks really serious, and kinda upset, “How’s that for _uneducated_ you fucking prick?” However, he gets no reply. Beckett may be a hot-head with an insane God-complex, but he’s also smart. He knows when he’s lost an argument.

He turns to us and clears his throat, “I’ll be back at twelve-thirty at which time you are allowed to eat lunch.” He sounds unfazed, “I highly doubt all of you follow my instructions,” his eyes flicker to Frank, “but I’d like to say again: No talking, no moving, and no damaging school property. If you have to go to the bathroom, too bad. It’s nine twenty-nine. I’m sure you can hold it for three more hours.” And then he leaves again.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, someone speaks up, “Okay, that was awesome.” And fucking _what_?! Did _Ray Toro_ really just call Frank Iero’s humiliation of the fucking _principal_ , awesome?! We all turn and look at Frank. He just shrugs.

“Let’s do something,” he says as he lies down on the table and looks up at the ceiling. “I’m bored.” I laugh in disbelief. He is probably the most bipolar person I’ve ever met—that is to say he’s extremely unpredictable. It just really shocks me that one minute he’s fuming at the principals lack of intelligence and the next he’s complaining about how bored he is.

“There _is_ nothing to do.” Bob says, sighing and seemingly not amused with the situation. Oh never mind; he finds the situation amusing, but he really doesn’t like Frank and will contribute nothing to fuel his creativity.

“We could always write the essay,” Ray suggests. We all look at him and he clears his throat, “Or, yeah, there’s nothing to do.”

“Then entertain me,” he turns on his side, and props himself up on one elbow. He nods at me, giving me a shit-eating grin, “Entertain me, Princess.” I just blink at him. I don’t know why, but suddenly I just…need to…fuck him…now… Shit. There are a million things I could do to entertain him and they all center around one idea. Fuck.

Oh dear God, help me; am I seriously thinking this right now? I must be, because Mikey’s looking at me like I just murdered a puppy right in front of him.

“Like what?” I ask.

“Tell me why you’re in here.” He smirks.


	3. Everybody Talks [F]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don’t sit up, but I look up at him and smile. “I may be a lot of things, Robert Bryar—”
> 
> “Loud, annoying, thief, inconvenient, juvenile delinquent, pyromaniac, slacker, sloppy—”
> 
> “—But I am not a liar.”

 

“My hero; she’s the last real dreamer I know, and I could tell you all about her.

I don’t think I’ll fall asleep till I roll over. Can we just start over again?

And I could tell you all about her. I don’t think I’ll fall asleep till then.”

- _Mayday Parade; No Heroes Allowed_

* * *

“Tell me why you’re in here,” I ask, smirking at him.

He seems nervous and just says, “There’s really no good reason.” However, I notice that next to Gerard, Mikey is giving him a weird look, and if I didn’t know any better I’d say that there was an incredibly long and interesting story as to why Gerard was in detention.

“Hmm,” I purse my lips and sit up. “I don’t believe you.” I hop off the table and saunter over to him, gracefully perching on the edge of the table. “Tell me, Princess,” I beg passionately, batting my eyelashes. “Tell me everything. I’m _dying_ to hear it.” But there is plenty of sarcasm to be detected in my voice.

“I-I don’t want to,” Gerard’s face is red when he looks away, appearing flustered and anxious. _Stop being perfect_ , I think angrily. _Wait, did I just think that?_

“Oh,” I frown. I lean forward, and my eyes flicker to Mikey before moving back to Gerard, who sinks back into his chair and looks _really_ uncomfortable. “Why not? I won’t laugh or anything.”

From behind Gerard I can hear Bob, “Ha, that’s likely.”

I don’t sit up, but I look up at him and smile. “I may be a lot of things, Robert Bryar—”

“Loud, annoying, thief, inconvenient, juvenile delinquent, pyromaniac, slacker, sloppy—”

“—But I am _not_ a liar.” I look back down at Gerard and throw on my best I-Honestly-Didn’t-Mean-To-Please-Don’t-Be-Mad-Oh-Look-At-My-Eyes-They’re-Huge face (and it works quite well because I actually _do_ have absolutely _huge_ eyes). “Please?”

He looks back up at me, and his face is unreadable, “N-no.”

Immediately I back away and put my hands up in defense. “Okay.”

Then he looks confused; very, _very_ confused. “W-what?” He sputters.

I shrug and turn around, shoving my hands in my pockets, “Earlier I said that I wouldn’t do anything the Princess didn’t want me to. I’m not a liar.” I heard nothing but stunned silence, and smiled happily to be able to revel in the knowledge that I can still surprise them.

“Someone else,” I said, opening another book on the shelf next to my table. “Entertain me. I’m sure you all remember what happens when I have to entertain myself.” I smile wickedly at Ray and he gives me a wide-eyed look of terror.

Ugh, I could _burn_ every book in the entire library, and I’d _still_ be bored. Maybe I’m a little _too_ ADHD—early stages of psychosis?

“Do you still wanna hear a story?” I, along with everyone else, turn to look at Mikey in surprise.

I smile genuinely. “Sure.” I sit on my table and cross my legs, putting my hands in my lap. Mikey is the only person in this entire room that I can stand to be around; he’s actually pretty cool, no matter how “crazy” he is.

“This is the story of why _I’m_ in here.”

Gerard tenses, “Mikey,” he warns.

“I can say whatever I want, Gerard.”

“I-I know you _can_ , but I just…” his voice trails off when he notices Mikey’s face; it’s deadly serious and a little intimidating.

Then Mikey turns to me, “He doesn’t want me to talk about it, because it has to deal with him and why _he’s_ in here.” Mikey smiles, and I know it’s something rare to see, so I appreciate it and smile back. “A few weeks ago this kid started to make fun of me and, I don’t know, I didn’t think it was important, so I didn’t tell anyone.” He shrugs and I can see Gerard start to get angrier and angrier. “I still don’t see the big deal.”

“Dang it, Mikey!” Gerard says, slamming his hands on the table. “You can’t let people treat you like that! Not even _he_ uses that word!” Gerard points at me.

“Not even…what? What don’t I—” I frown. “What word?”

Gerard shakes his head in response. Mikey answers, “Retarded.”I feel something in my throat constrict, and there’s this insane pressure on my chest; I’ve _never_ used that word. I’ve never even _dared_ to use that word. It’s the most despicable, vile, and offensive word I’ve ever come across, and it’s plain unfair.

“Please, _please_ ,” I say as I close my eyes to calm down, “tell me Princess beat the shit out of them and that’s why he’s here.” When I open my eyes Mikey is smiling proudly, and Gerard looks embarrassed as hell.

“Princess, I have just gained so much respect for you.” Gerard then looks happily nervous. “Congrats, you’re off my shit list.”

“Er, does that mean you’ll stop—”

I hold up my hands to stop him, “No. I will never stop calling you Princess.” I smile—not sarcastically, not bitterly, just…fondly. Gerard looked surprised, and his face turned red, but this time it wasn’t because he wanted to punch me in the stomach. I don’t know what it was that he _was_ feeling, but I’d fucked with him enough to know when he was mad. And this was not one of those times. On the other hand, I don’t know how to describe how _I_ felt in that exact moment, but it was…scary? Yeah, it was scary.

“Either get a room or stop blatantly flirting with each other.” We both look at Bob, feeling a little shocked and kind of embarrassed. However, I tend to not let things get the best of me, “Oh, I don’t flirt.” I smirk and jump off my table, “I would never flirt with the Princess, for I am not but a humble servant and utterly unworthy of such a lovely and admirable human being.” I bow towards Gerard, then look up and wink at him; his face is even more red, and he’s doing a very bad job of hiding his smile. I notice Mikey is smirking at Gerard, and elbows him in the side, earning him a ‘Oh-My-God-Mikey-Don’t-Do-That-You’re-So-Embarrassing-Whateven-I-Don’t-Want-To-Talk-To-You-Anyways’ look.

“Mikey,” I say, “Quick question. Why are _you_ in here?”

Gerard answers for him, sighing warily, “ _He’s_ here because _I’m_ here.”

“I just like to keep him company,” Mikey shrugs. “He gets bored easily, and then he does dumb things. Oh! Like, earlier he was staring at—”

“Mikey, just because you’re my brother doesn’t mean I won’t beat the crap out of you too.” Gerard’s face was a warning, and a little scary if I do say so myself. Mikey just scrunched up his nose in distaste, but he didn’t say anything else. Gerard wants to change the subject, and it’s very apparent. “So, Bob. Why are you in detention?”

Bob snorts and shrugs, “That hardly matters.”

I roll my eyes. “Probably something ridiculous like some fucking huge matter of pride versus responsibility or some shit like that.”

“You can make me as angry as you want,” Bob grits through his teeth. “That won’t make me tell you why I’m here. I’m not an idiot.” I laugh and shake my head. _Dude, it’s like you just fucking_ walk _into these things_. I don’t say anything, though I really want to.

“Okay, whatever.” I shift my attention to Ray who looks a little nervous, and a little wind-blown. “What about you, Ray? Aren’t you, like, the perfect student or some shit like that?”

He chokes a little bit on nothing but air and shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “Oh, uh.” He clears his throat, “I didn’t…uh, I don’t.”

“Oh, c’mon, Ray!” I skip over to his table and smile at him innocently. He blushes, but he doesn’t talk. “I won’t judge you or anything! I mean, there’s not really anything I can judge someone on. You’ve met me, right?” He laughs nervously, but he looks a little relieved.

Then he nods, “Okay, so in Calculus we have to take this monthly education evaluation, which is just a nice way of Mr. McMann telling us ‘ _I think you’re all idiots and you need to be tested because are you even learning anything?!_ ’.” I laugh and smile at him, and he shifts uncomfortably. “Uh, anyways. This month I didn’t really study, and I feel really bad about it, but I may or may not have borrowed some of Janine Dortay’s answers on, well, the entire test.”

I scoff, “Oh come on!”

Ray sputters at me, “You said you wouldn’t judge!”

“I also said I wasn’t a liar. Do you think that was the _truth_?!”

His brows furrow, “Yes.”

“Okay, yeah, it was the truth, but still! _You_? Cheating on a _test_?! I’m not judging. I’m unbelieving.”

“Same.” Mikey pips up from behind me.

“Thank you, Mikey.” I throw my hands in the air in exasperation.

“Well we can’t _all_ be good at math, Frank!” Ray pouts, but he doesn’t look genuinely upset. My face falls, and I slouch over a little. How does _he_ know anything about my math abilities?

“Frank? Good at _math_?” Bob laughs. “I don’t believe that.”

“What do you mean ‘ _good at math_ ’? I’m not good at math.”

“See now, _that_ I’ll believe.” Bob nods. I want to punch him in the face, or prove him wrong, but my life is built around acting stupid, so I figure, no, I shouldn’t do that.

“Yes you are!” Ray exclaims and points at me. “You’re _really_ good at math!”

My face is cold, expressionless. “Well we all have our opinions, but if you think _I’m_ good at math, _you_ must be a fucking idiot.” We’re all silent, and I can’t help but notice how little Mikey and Gerard have contributed to the conversation. I turn and look at them and notice Mikey looks oblivious, but Gerard is biting his lip and looking very contemplative; almost confused. His eye catches mine, and he quickly looks away. _Why_ does he keep acting weird like that?

I glance at the clock; it’s 10:15. Ugh, fucking another two hours and fifteen minutes in here with them without one goddamned bathroom break? What the hell am I supposed to do? I look over at Gerard and regard him cautiously; I’ve always found Gerard Way attractive, and he’s just so damn adorable when he’s angry that I just have to do anything in my power to upset him. But he’s not on my shit list anymore…so does that mean I have to be nice to him? I guess so. But I can still embarrass him! He’s cute when he blushes.

Wow, I suddenly realize just how strange I sound. I have never been in a relationship before, but that’s because I haven’t found one person on the entire planet that I don’t find annoying or an idiot. I don’t think Gerard is annoying or an idiot. In fact, I find him rather endearing and very self conscious, which I think is an amazing quality to have.

“What about you, Frank?” My eyes snap to Ray, and he looks scared; almost like he knows he’s made the mistake of talking to me.

“Huh?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.

“Uh, I was just asking about why – why _you’re_ in here.”

“Oh,” my eyebrows raise in surprise. “Okay,” I flit back over to my table and sit on it. “How did I end up here…how did I end up here?” I can’t really remember. “Um…”


	4. You’ll Be The Reason I’ll Be Uneven [G]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Actually,” Frank snaps at him. “I’m not embarrassed. I just don’t want to tell my life story to a bunch of judgmental assholes. Sorry I’m not fucking perfect, like some people!” Whoa, Frank was really upset about this, and I suddenly feel like punching Bob in the face. But why?! I don’t like him! I don’t and I never will, so anyone who thinks otherwise can just get the fuck out.

 

“If home is where the heart is, then we’re all just fucked. I can’t remember…I can’t remember, and I want it so bad

I’d shoot the sunshine into my veins. I can’t remember the good old days, and it’s kinda funny

the way we’re wearing anchors on our shirts when being anchored aboard just feels like a curse.”

- _Fall Out Boy; 27_

* * *

“Um…” Ha, what? Can he not remember why he’s here or something? I’d never forget what landed me in detention, but he’s had it for so long that he probably really _doesn’t_ remember why. He runs his fingers through his hair, and I feel myself sigh. It’s just a stupid fucking personal reflex that every goddamned time my attention is drawn to his hair, I desperately want to run my fingers through it.

“Okay,” he says slowly. He’s looking at me, and usually I’d look away, but I just can’t find it within myself to break eye contact. His eyes are like jail cells; once you find yourself stuck in them, there’s no way to break free until they let you go. “I don’t remember why I’m here, actually.” He looks away and I find myself almost angry about it.

“I think the first time it was because I wrote ‘The Chamber of Secrets has been opened’ in red sharpie on the bathroom wall.” He laughs, and I find myself smiling; luckily Mikey is too. “After that…I guess it was because I didn’t show up to any of them.” His face grows uneasy, “There _is_ one thing I remember lately…but I’d rather not, y’know.”

“Oh my God don’t tell me _you’re_ embarrassed.” Bob snorts.

“Actually,” Frank snaps at him. “I’m not _embarrassed_. I just don’t want to tell my life story to a bunch of judgmental assholes. Sorry I’m not fucking perfect, like some people!” Whoa, Frank was really upset about this, and I suddenly feel like punching Bob in the face. But _why_?! I _don’t like him_! I don’t and I never will, so anyone who thinks otherwise can just get the fuck out.

“I’m not perfect,” Bob’s face is stony. “I don’t have to be, because nobody expects it of me. Nobody expects it of you either. We’re all just people, okay? We fuck up sometimes. Whatever, who cares? I don’t think there’s much you could tell me that I wouldn’t understand.”

“Really, now?” Frank’s eyebrows raise questioningly. “Bob, knowing me, what do you think I’d get in trouble for if a teacher found a note that I had written, and what do you think said note would be about?”

Bob shifts uncomfortably, “Um…I don’t know. A cheat sheet for math or something?”

Frank snorts, “Hardly. Like I’d even need a cheat sheet. I don’t go to that class anyways.”

“Yet you’re passing it with an A,” I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes.

“What?” Frank asks sharply, looking at me coldly.

“Nothing,” I shake my head and shrug. He bites his lip and looks away; ugh, _God_! I can’t fucking stop staring at his _mouth_! It’s just so…it’s so. “Ugh,” I don’t realize I’m making an audible noise until Mikey’s looking at me like _I’m_ the crazy one. I shake my head at him and turn back to Frank (hopefully I won’t _stare_ this time).

“Anyways,” Frank says. “It’s actually a more personal note, and I’d rather not say much more than that. Or do you not respect my wishes as a living breathing human being and think you deserve to know everything about my life?”

Bob is silent for a moment, looking horribly guilty about making Frank angry. “No,” he says. “I’m okay.”

“Well, I’m not, so good for you!” I can’t explain the sinking feeling I get whenever Frank is upset. I can’t really explain the feeling I have whenever he’s anywhere near me, or even in the same goddamned room. I can’t really explain why I want to jump his bones every fucking time I look at him. I can’t explain why I want to push him against a wall, or taste every single inch of his body, or rake my fingers down his chest, and stick my hand down his pants and my dick up his ass.

I wish I could.

I can’t.

* * *

 

“This can’t be healthy; the way I dream about your lips.”

- _Mayday Parade; No Heroes Allowed_

* * *

So it’s 11:00. Nobody has said a word for the last half hour when Frank kinda exploded, and I feel like I’m going to die. I know everyone has to pee; that much is obvious. However, because I’m a stupid horny little fuck, and I’m going to Hell, there is a much _different_ reason that I need to go to the bathroom (thanks to Frank and my weird oral fixation). My pants are about to rip from straining against my hard-on, and I keep shifting uncomfortably, hoping there would be no reason for me to stand up.

There’s a small circle of four big round chairs off to the side of the library—right next to the tables we’re sitting at—and Frank has wandered over and is sat in one of them. (He looks so tiny in it, oh my God I could just fucking _die_.) Ray, Bob, and Mikey have found their way over to the chairs as well, and they’re taking up the rest of the seats over there.

“C’mon Gerard!” Mikey smiles at me and I kind of want to punch him in the face; he totally knows. How can he _not_?! He’s my fucking brother!

“Uh, no thanks, Mikes.” I smile unpleasantly at him, and look back down at the piece of paper in front of me. It’s slightly wrinkled after me shoving it in my pocket, but it’s my drawing from earlier. I turn the paper over and start to sketch a few lines, not really knowing what I’m drawing.

Only when I pause a few minutes later do I realize it’s Frank’s lips, and they’re sporting his lip-ring and classic biting-the-bottom-lip that makes me come in my pants without even touching myself. _Not_ _today_ , _luckily_.

However, I am a bit unlucky (or lucky depending on how you look at it) when I’m scared shitless by, “ _Whoa_ …” My heart stops beating and then goes into overdrive as my mind races a million miles a minute. Holy shit…holy fucking shit…

Frank’s face is ( _maybe_ ) an inch from mine as he leans over my shoulder and looks down at my paper. His chest is pushed against my back as he tries to get a better look, and I can feel every breath tickle my collarbone. Did I mention that the collarbone is my other strange fetish? No? Well…now you know. “Oh, fu—crap.” I take a deep breath and try to stay as still as possible.

“I have a lot of questions right now,” Frank’s voice is tiny, and he sounds very young. “But I’ll start with just one.” Out of the corner of my eye I notice how huge and vast his eyes are, and my heart kinda just…shatters. Okay, I guess I can admit it now; I’m kinda really in love with Frank Iero. He isn’t looking at me when he’s talking—just down at the paper. “Why don’t you ever swear?”

 _Because I think horrible dirty things about fucking you senseless and I’m afraid it might seep into my vocabulary_. But I didn’t say that. I told him the truth. “I don’t really have a good answer for that.” I shrug and laugh breathlessly, “Next question?”

“I don’t believe you.” His eyes meet mine, and _oh my fucking God_ it’s like he _knows_ why I don’t swear. “But I like you, and I respect you, so I’m not gonna push it.” I can feel my face getting hot, so I clear my throat and look away. Surely he meant he liked me as a friend, right? I mean, any other explanation is just ridiculous!

“Why…” he reached around me—and rests his chin on my shoulder—in order to touch the paper. Well, he didn’t touch it so much as hover his hand above it. “Why me? I mean…” he drew his hand back and stood up, looking like I had just burned him with a candle. Was I honestly witnessing Frank Iero being shy? And _I_ was the reason he was acting that way?! Holy shit, it’s like fucking Christmas.

I turned to look at him, giving him a not-so-subtle once-over. “Because you’re not anyone else.” He looks shocked, and his face turns red. Like always, I don’t really notice that I’m staring at his lips. No, I definitely _do_ notice I’m staring, but only after my dick twitches and reminds me _OH YEAH, I HAVE THE BIGGEST HARD-ON FOR FUCKING FRANK IERO AND IT’S NOT EVEN OKAY A LITTLE BIT_.

“Well it’s,” he coughs slightly. “It’s good. Can I…?” He looks like he’s about to reach out and grab it, but then remembers something and stops himself.

“Oh, yeah.” I hand him the piece of paper, careful not to touch him.

“One more question,” he says after he carefully folds the paper and tucks it into his pocket. “Why aren’t you sitting with us?”

“Uh,” this time I really don’t have a good excuse. “There are only four chairs.” Bad excuse, but the best thing I could come up with. God, why am I such a fail? His face melts into a much more recognizable expression (mischief) and he smiles at me.

“We can always just _share_ the chair, I mean, we _are_ friends. Aren’t we, Princess?” My blood runs cold, and my I can feel my eyes widen to the size of Jupiter. Us? Him and me? Share? A chair? Wherein the two of us will be in close proximity of each other and I’ll have to try and ( _yes_ , I know I’m going to Hell) control my urges to rape Frank?

“Yeah. Sure why not?” I can feel the words leave my mouth before I even think about what I’m fucking saying. Why would I put myself in this situation? I can’t even stand up let alone share a fucking _chair_ with him! And then I realize why. It’s because Frank Iero makes you want to do things you normally wouldn’t; there’s this extremely charismatic charm about him that makes you feel like the most important person in the world—like the _only_ other person in the world. He makes you feel unstoppable. But okay, I can make this work; my jeans aren’t that tight so it shouldn’t be too noticeable… until I sit down. Whateven, I’ll worry about that when the time comes.

When Frank and I approach the chairs, Bob, Mikey, and Ray are nowhere to be seen, though I can hear their voices nearby talking about something that I don’t even want to try and understand. So they’re looking at books. I quickly sit in one of the chairs, and put my hands in my lap. When I look up, Frank is stretching slightly, and his shirt rides up revealing the elastic on his boxers and the line of hair that leads straight to his— 

Fuck I have to stop thinking about him because I’m sure my brain and my dick will explode and _that_ would be no fun.  When my eyes meet his, he’s smirking, and I get really scared. He shuffles towards me and I figure, okay, we’re gonna share the chair, right? Uh…okay, no.

He fucking sits on me. Luckily I have my hands in my lap, so he’s not just sitting on my dick, but still! That little shit fucking _sits_ on me! He wiggles around a little to get comfortable and I feel myself ready to release every bad word that I know exists. But I don’t. I take a deep breath. “I thought we were sharing.” I say as calmly as I can.

“This is sharing.” He smiles wickedly and wiggles a little more. I just keep taking deep breaths, hoping I won’t do something stupid.

“Hey, Princess?” Frank looks down at me and cocks his head to the side and he’s so damn adorable I can’t stand it.

“Yeah?” I ask unevenly.

“Y’know, it’s really uncomfortable to sit on your hands.” He bats his eyelashes and holy shit, he’s doing this on purpose.

“Yeah.” I say quietly.

After a second (where I don’t do anything) he says, “Can you move them?” Fuck! What am I supposed to say? _No?_ Hah, yeah like _that’s_ gonna work. Even if he does honor everything I say, he will find a way to talk me into it.

“Uh, okay.” I yank my hands free, and feel his weight settle back into my lap. I don’t know what to do with my hands at that point so I just put them at my sides.

I know Frank can feel my hard-on pressing into his leg, and I’m ready to die. Frank just turns and smirks at me, “See, that’s _way_ better.” He sighs blissfully and pushes his back against my chest, letting his head fall back on my shoulder, “I mean, you wouldn’t want me to _leave_ right?”

I’m so focused on watching his throat move when he talks, that I don’t even hear what he’s saying. Nonetheless, I’m aware that he _did_ ask me a question, so I nod, still looking at his throat.

“What’s that?” He turns his head and he’s fucking two centimeters away from kissing me, holy shit what do I do?! Okay, remain calm. Answer the goddamned question and remain calm. I open my mouth to answer, and he decides that would be a good time to adjust himself, lifting his hips slightly and then settling back again.

“Uh huh,” I’m pretty sure I sound like a mindless zombie right now, but I don’t even care anymore. It’s like he’s trying really hard to…I don’t know, seduce me? Why would he be, like, _trying_ to seduce me? He’s not is he? Right? He’s not? He shouldn’t be. He seduced me when he walked into the goddamned detention room this morning, eleven minutes late and insulted me to the point where I kinda wanted to hit him.

“Is it okay that I make myself, er, comfortable?” He _very slowly_ and _very skillfully_ shifts again, but this time it’s a very meticulous, very deliberate roll of his hips as he grinds down on my hard-on.

I let out a rather embarrassing squeak and stutter, “Y-y-yeah.” He laughs and I pant heavily. My fingers are gripping the cushion so tightly, my knuckles are white, and every inch of me is trembling with the overwhelming instinct to grab him and bite his neck to drown out the inevitable moans of pleasure while I come in my pants. I don’t, though, and right as Mikey, Bob, and Ray are coming back into view, Frank looks at me ruefully before sitting up and turning to look at me. “I might have to,” he gives _me_ a not-too-subtle once-over. “Adjust myself a few more times.”

I swallow hard and take a deep breath, “I – I don’t…”

He pretends to look hurt, “Well then I guess I could just _leave_ —”

And my dick immediately protests to that, causing me to blurt out (way faster than I should have), “ _No_!” He gives me a look of amusement, and I look away, “Uh, no. That’s fine.”

“Oh did you finally decide to join us, Gerard?”

I glare at Mikey, “Yeah. Shut up.” But Mikey just smiles at me like he knows every secret in my life ever (which he probably does) and it scares me a little. Bob and Ray sit down and look at Frank and I strangely.

“Why?” Bob asks at the same time Ray asks, “What?”

“We’re sharing,” Frank answers. “Isn’t that nice?” We all know it’s a rhetorical question but Bob still says, “ _Ew_.” anyway. I really wish it was 12:30, and the principal would walk in and say we could all go to the bathroom, but when I look at the clock, it’s only 11:30. _Fuck_.

“Hey, what are you guys gonna do about lunch?” Ray looks at us expectantly, and my mind goes blank. That’s a really good question, actually. What _were_ we going to do for food? We didn’t have any, but Beckett wouldn’t just let us starve, would he? Would he?!

“No fucking clue.” Frank shrugs. “However, I suspect that there’s a bunch of food in the basement. Y’know, the stuff they use to refill the vending machines?”

“This school is fucking huge,” Bob says. “If you expect me to run around trying to find some food that may or may not exist, then you’re crazy.”

Frank snorts and leans farther back against me, and I feel my eyes bulge out of my head as I whine just loud enough for him to hear. “What else is new?” Then he turns and winks at me.


	5. You’ve Got Me On the Edge To Jump For You [F]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Holy crap.” Gerard whispers, looking around with wide eyes. I smirk and pick my way through the giant stacks of boxes. It really is a fucking huge room. I’m surprised no one has found out about it sooner. I know for a fact that a shit ton of those weird pot-head kids would totally go for a place like this. On the right I spot a 24 pack of Coke, and on the left I see a box of candy bars and a box of chips.

“Now come one come all to this tragic affair. Wipe off that makeup, what's in is despair.

So throw on the black dress, mix in with the lot, you might wake up and notice you're someone you're not.

If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see, you can find out firsthand what it's like to be me.

So gather 'round piggies and kiss this goodbye; I'd encourage your smiles I'll expect you won't cry.”

- _My Chemical Romance; The End._  


* * *

“What else is new?” I turn and wink at him. Oh this is fun, and very difficult. The drawing was one thing—it was cute…flattering. It was accurate, and _really_ good. I loved it; that’s why I kept it. Now, Gerard having a total hard-on for me? That’s a completely separate thing altogether. I mean, I suspected that I made him nervous. That much was clear!

I didn’t exactly suspect he wanted to bone me, and I didn’t suspect the self-confident and daring attitude it brought out of me. Sure, my heart’s beating a million miles a minute, and I have to think about dead puppies to keep me out of a situation similar to Gerard, but wow… Yeah, okay, I always found Gerard adorable, right? He’s just so – and I’m like…but he’s always—yeah.

Before now I had no doubt; I **don’t** like Gerard Way. I like to look at him, and I like to tease him. I like to get him flustered and nervous and embarrass him all the goddamned time. Now? Now I’m not too sure.

I mean, _yes_ I still feel that way but is it something more? Do I really like him? I don’t know…normal people would say ‘ _Yes, Frank. In fact, you’re practically in love with the kid! After all, you_ do _think about him all the time, and smile when he does, and want to do everything possible to make him happy, and you_ definitely _want him to fuck you. So yeah, you like him_.’

I’m not normal people. I’d say ‘ _I don’t know, Frank. You like his face, his attitude, his humor, his height, his apparent inability to shower, his perfectly messy hair, the shade of red his face turns when you talk to him, the flutter in your chest you get when he talks to you, his brother, his thoughts, his voice, the way he always smells like coffee and cigarettes, and above all you_ love _feeling his fucking hard as fuck dick pressing into your thigh and oh my God can he just rip your clothes off now?!_ _But that doesn’t mean you like_ him _…just like literally everything about him_.’

Goddamn it. Revaluating that thought I’ve come to the conclusion—I need him. I don’t just like him, I honestly _need_ him. He’s the only person who seems to really care, and is actually capable of caring. The only person capable of understanding, and I don’t know why; it’s not like I’d expect him to understand my situation. He just…does.

“I’m still not going to run around this school.” Bob says, crossing his arms over his chest. Oh my God he sounds like a little kid, shut up Bob!

“Then don’t,” I shrug and scoot myself forward on Gerard’s lap. I feel bad; I don’t want the kid to, like, explode or anything! It took so much effort to find him; I’d hate to lose him. I turn and look at him again giving him a questioning look, and praying to _God_ that he understands it. He nods his head and I smile slightly.

“I’ll go with you,” he says, not breaking eye contact.

“See,” I smile bigger and turn to the rest of the group. “I don’t really need you Robert. You’d be no fun anyways.” I hop off Gerard and start towards the back door of the library. I don’t turn around when I say, “C’mon, Princess.” I don’t really have to look to know Gerard is scrambling to follow me. He catches up when I’m out of view from the other guys, and his face is so red that I almost ask if he’s okay. Almost.

“Where are we even going?”

I smirk, “I told you. The basement.” Although, I can understand his confusion; it does _not_ look like we’re going to the basement. I head up the stairs to the second level and then down the aisle where all the lights are turned off.

“This is _not_ —”

“The basement. This is not the basement.” At the end of the hallway is a small panel in the wall. I carefully push the top left corner of the panel, and the entire thing tilts. There’s a small red lever on in the inside of the panel, and I flip it. Next to us, the bookshelf makes a funny clicking sound. I walk over to the bookshelf, and pull it away from the wall; it moves easily. Behind the bookshelf is a door.

“What the actual—” Gerard stops himself and blinks once. He’s staring at the door, and I can feel myself smiling. He looks at me questioningly and I gesture to the door. He’s hesitant, but eventually he opens it. On the other side is… “The hallway?”

“Yeah,” I push past him and pull him with me. I shut the door, pull off one of the door panels and grab the handle on the back of the bookshelf, pulling it against the door. Then I go to the wall and, oh look at that! It’s the same panel from the other side. I switch back the tiny red switch and there’s a clicking sound—the sound of the bookshelf locking to the wall. I close the panel and turn to look at Gerard.

“I don’t – what do you…why is…” his brows furrow. “Can we just go now?”

“D’aw you’re so cute when you’re confused.” Which wasn’t sarcasm; not even a little. His face gets red and he looks away. I walk past him and down the hall towards the elevator. “C’mon, you like Harry Potter right?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” I push the down arrow and shove my hands in my pockets. I look at him and raise my eyebrows.

“Telling. Asking. I’m not sure.” He laughs a little, “I do. Like Harry Potter, I mean.”

“So then you should appreciate the fact that this school is like fucking Hogwarts. It’s almost ridiculous the amount of secret passageways there are.”

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

The elevator opens and we step inside. I press ‘B’ and wait for the doors to close before answering. “Yes. And seriously, what the fuck? Why won’t you just fucking _swear_ for once? You’re making me all anxious.” I don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling. I roll my eyes, and the elevator dings. He shouldn’t be so happy; I still win when it comes to making people anxious. His pants can vouch for that.

“I swear at home all the time.” He shrugs, “It actually takes a lot of effort not to swear here; too many close calls.” When I step out of the elevator there are three different hallways one could take. To the right is a shortcut. To the left will get you lost, and the one down the middle will get you where you need to be but it takes twenty years. I like spending time with Gerard.

Middle it is!

“Y’know,” I say as I start to walk. “I _will_ make you swear some day. Before the end of today even! _That_ I can guarantee.”

From behind me I can hear him snort. “That’s likely,” he says under his breath.

For the next few turns it’s silent, and I can feel his eyes boring into my skull, and I just _know_ there’s something he wants to ask me. I sigh, stop, and turn around. “What?”

He looks slightly embarrassed, “Oh, uh, nothing.”

“Do you want to rethink that?”

“…No?”

“Really?” I cross my arms over my chest and my eyebrows raise.

He looks miserable, “No.” I move to sit on the floor, resting my back against the lockers. I know that if it’s a question _Gerard Way_ is going to ask, it’s going to have a long-ass answer. “Sit.” I gesture to the spot next to me. He hesitates but eventually he sits down, leaving a good six inches between us; it makes me laugh a little.

“So,” I say, “You were going to ask me something?”

“Uh, okay. I was just wondering about the…y’know what? Never mind.”

He moves to stand up, but I grab his arm and yank him back down. “No. Just ask me the fucking question. I’ll answer it. I promise.” I know I’ll regret saying that, but I can’t find it within myself to really care. He flails his arms a little, like he does whenever he’s thinking of something to say. He’s not looking at me, and he’s chewing his bottom lip; _No, it’s okay, Gerard. You can stop being perfect any time you want to, that’s fine_. I roll my eyes.

“Okay,” he clears his throat, and he’s still not looking at me. “I don’t expect you to answer. I mean, if you don’t want to, that is. But why are you, y’know, here?”

 _Oh_ …

“Oh…” I’m quiet for so long that he must think I don’t want to answer the question. It’s not that—I just don’t know how. “Well, what do you mean?”

“I just…I can’t stop thinking about what you said.” I don’t say anything so he just keeps talking. “Back in the library, you said the reason you were in detention was because of a note you had written. A personal note. But you didn’t want to talk about it, and I can understand if you still don’t.” He looks at me and he looks miserable. I can tell he regrets asking, but he shouldn’t. He’s the only person I’d tell the answer to (aside from Mikey, maybe).

“Uh, okay. I…” I stop and my brows furrow. _Do I have an answer for this?_ Of course I have one. Is it good enough? It’ll have to be. “I hate to sugarcoat shit for people who can’t handle it, so I’m sorry that this is blunt. It was a suicide note.” I shrug and look away from him. I can feel the tears in my eyes and now I’m really angry I said anything in the first place. I should have known that Gerard would want to know. But I didn’t think about it. Not one bit. And I really fucking regret it.

“Frank.” His voice is quiet, and it sounds like he’s crying. When I look at him, his eyes are wide with panic, and, yep, there are tears in them. He honestly looks like he’s witnessed a murder, and I feel my chest constrict. God fucking damnit, why do I care so fucking much?!

“What?” I ask. Damn I sound wrecked, and not even in the good way.

“Why?”

“Y’know…I ask myself that question a lot. Every day, in fact.” I shake my head. “It’s too big for us to understand. You shouldn’t try.” I stand up, “We should go. You might get in trouble if you’re late.”

He looks at me strangely and then stands up. “Why wouldn’t you get in trouble?”

“Oh, I would.” I start to walk. “However, I don’t care if _I_ get in trouble, but you? You’re a whole other story, Princess.” We were silent the rest of the way to the storage room. It only took ten minutes to get there (shorter than usual, because halfway through I decided I just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible). When we come to a dark hallway, I pull out my lighter and two bobby-pins. When we reach the door at the end of the long hallway, I hand the lighter to Gerard and he lights it without even thinking about it. I look at him questioningly, but he doesn’t notice. I quickly pick the lock, and once we’re inside, I flip on the switch.

“Holy crap.” Gerard whispers, looking around with wide eyes. I smirk and pick my way through the giant stacks of boxes. It really is a fucking huge room. I’m surprised no one has found out about it sooner. I know for a fact that a shit ton of those weird pot-head kids would totally go for a place like this. On the right I spot a 24 pack of Coke, and on the left I see a box of candy bars and a box of chips.

Those are all good things to have, but those are not things that I’m looking for. I know, for a fact that somewhere in this huge-ass room, there’s a box of pre-packaged, day-old sandwiches. It’s where they (the lunch ladies) put the food from Friday. I move to the back of the room, leaving Gerard God-knows-where. _Chips, no. Soda, no. More candy bars, no. Fruit? Any apples? No? Ew. Hm…_

Ah, there they are! Typically they _are_ put in the back of the room because that’s where it’s coldest, and that’s where the sandwiches won’t acquire mold before they have a chance to either sell them again (fucking gross) or throw them away. I take the box and on my way back to the front of the room, I find a cart and take that as well. When I get back, I pile on the 24 pack of soda, and a box of chips, _and_ a box of candy bars. I also find a flashlight behind one of the boxes and shoves it in my pocket.

“Hey, Princess, let’s go.” When Gerard comes back he has a dusty notebook with him and he’s clutching it to his chest. His eyes are wide, and I know something weird has happened, but I don’t push it. “Here, push this.” I push the cart towards him, and hold the door open for him and once he leaves, I turn off the light, take off my shoe and stick it between the door and frame so it doesn’t lock.

“What’s that about?” Gerard asks once we start walking.

“Well someone has to bring the cart back down here.” I shrug and decide to take the shorter way back to the elevator. We’re there in seven minutes and on our way back up. When the elevator dings we get out and I start to explain, “Okay, the clock says 12:22. By the time I help you get the food in there it’s gonna be 12:26.” I open the secret door and Gerard pushes the cart through.

“That…” he blinks at me. “You’d have 4 minutes to get there and back. It took us nearly 20 minutes. It’s impossible. You’d get in so much trouble, and then Beckett _would_ move you to a different room, and…”

“Like it actually matters?” I ask, already knowing the answer. We start to unload the food, and Gerard doesn’t reply.

“Well of course it matters. Can’t I, like—”

“No, you can’t come with me.” I laugh slightly and start to wheel the cart back. “I spent too much effort making sure that you wouldn’t get in trouble. I’m not gonna, like, waste all that for a little company. I’m fine on my own…” I turn away. “I’m used to it.”

“C’mon, Frank.”

“No.”

“Frank just listen!”

“No, Gerard!”

“Please, Frankie!”

“No, Gee!” We both stop and stare at each other incredulously. “I should—”

“Get going, yeah…”


	6. Can I Have One Second of Your Time? If I Don’t It’ll Drive Me Crazy [G]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure about Frank, but speaking as an Atheist I honestly think the two of us should be going to church and getting confirmed right about now because holy fucking shit, Beckett hasn’t come back yet and we’re ten minutes late. As a matter of fact, we’re literally running to our seats the fucking second he walks in the door.

“I've broken every rule that I've known since you told me that I've got to have passion.

Honestly, you've got me all wrong; I am just a boy on my own, and looking for some promising action.

Tell me what it takes to move on.”

- _Mayday_ _Parade; I’d Rather Make Mistakes Than Nothing At All_  


* * *

I definitely obeyed what Frank told me to do; I didn’t go with him. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to go _after_ him. There was no fucking way that I’d let him get in trouble all by himself—I was the one who offered to go with him, it’s my fault as much as it is his!

Besides, I’m not sure if this is weird or not, but I feel a little anxious without him. I like him, so sue me! God, that’s weird to think; _I_ like _Frank Iero_. It’s almost wrong. So wrong it’s perfectly right. It only makes sense. He’s him, and I’m me, and I like him, and he’s…I don’t know, perfect? Yeah, perfect. Well, obviously he isn’t _perfect_ , but everything about him…I think it’s perfect the way it is, and I don’t know why he tries to fix it. You can’t fix what wasn’t broken in the first place.

“Gerard, I fucking told you to stay upstairs!”

“I did. For about twenty seconds.” I shrug.

Frank is just slipping his shoe back on, and he shoves past me. “I can’t…I don’t know why I even bother with you sometimes.” I have no idea, but the way he said that. The way he referred to me. He made it sound like we were dating, and that thought—the thought of me dating Frank—gave me the strangest, best feeling I’ve ever experienced.

I decide I should probably say _something_ , “Do we have to…” he stops and turns to look at me. “Go back, I mean.” He bites his lip, and my stomach tightens; he’s so… God I’m making myself sick just thinking about how much I like him. It’s like, I never actually thought Frank would be some significant figure in my life; he’s always just been the object of my wet dreams. Now that he’s something more? It’s almost too much. It’s too surreal.

“Do you want detention again?” Frank isn’t trying to scare me into going back upstairs. I can tell he wants to stay just as much as I do.

I walk up to him, and I hesitate before speaking. “I don’t know… Will you be there?” He smiles at that and nods for me to follow him. Half way down the hall he casually slips his hand into mine. I look at him in surprise, but he’s looking straight ahead, smiling like an idiot.

“If you’re lucky.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh hell yes, I’m a nervous wreck.”

- _Fall Out Boy; West Coast Smoker_  


* * *

 

 

I’m not sure about Frank, but speaking as an Atheist I honestly think the two of us should be going to church and getting confirmed right about now because _holy fucking shit,_ Beckett hasn’t come back yet and we’re ten minutes late. As a matter of fact, we’re literally running to our seats the fucking _second_ he walks in the door. He looks at us suspiciously, but I don’t think he saw anything.

“Ah, look at this.” He gestures to us. “Why am I not surprised to see absolutely nothing written on your papers?” It’s a rhetorical question, and no one (not even Bob) says anything. Everyone can sense the tension between him and Frank, and I’m not sure which one of them will crack first. I really fucking hope it’s not Frank.

“Who has to pee?” Everyone raises their hand…except Frank. _Everyone_ except Frank, and I can fucking see him vibrating in his seat from having to go so bad. What the hell is that about? He notices my concerned look, and I start to lower my hand, but he shakes head. I hesitate; should I put it back up? I mean, _I_ really have to pee…but if Frank’s upset…

“C’mon, Gerard.” I turn to see Mikey beckoning for me to follow him.

“Uh,” I give Frank one glance before deciding. “Nah. I’ll sit this one out.”

Mikey shrugs, “Alright.” Then he turns to leave. I get up and walk over by Frank. I sit in the chair closest to him and when looks at me, he seems annoyed.

“Dude, I’m pretty sure you have to pee so bad you’re about to cry.”

He sighs in frustration, “Ya think?”

“Why didn’t you go with them?”

“Why didn’t _you_ go with them?”

My face is red and I look at my hands in my lap. “Because… well – I guess it’s because _you_ didn’t go. You seemed upset, and – and it… it made _me_ upset and...” my voice trails off when Frank reaches out and takes my hand. When I look into his eyes he’s smiling sadly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

I cut him off, “Frank…what is this?”

He looks confused, “What is what?”

I gesture between us, “This. Us…if I can call it that.”

He looks down at our hands, “Y’know…I’ve never been in a – in a _this_ before. I’ve never been part of an _us_. I’ve never found anyone important enough. I’ve never trusted someone enough. I’ve never loved someone enough.”

My heart skips a beat, “But… but you love _me_?”

He looks up and regards me carefully. He reaches out and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. His face is calculating. “I don’t know. I could.” He pauses, “I mean, I _would_ … if I knew how.”

My head is pounding, and I can hear my heart beat in my ears. I don’t know if I’m even speaking loud enough for him to hear me, but I’m so scared for what I’m about to do next that I have no choice but to freak the fuck out.

“I could teach you.”

“Please,” he whines, and oh my God he fucking sounds so desperate; what the shit, he sounds like a goddamned porn star. I don’t know when it was that my face got fucking two centimeters away from his, but I really couldn’t care less. I’m actually glad it happened, because now I can… “Lesson one.” I tilt my chin one degree, my eyes flutter shut, and—

It’s soft. _Very_ soft. Very…intimate. It’s hesitant, and scared, and unsure. Frank is hesitant, and scared, and unsure (which is very un-Frank-like). It makes me kinda angry. I cup the back of his head, and lean into him, and I can feel him start to get into it until…

“Wait,” he pulls back, not letting go of my hand. “I told you before… this is new to me. I’m just not sure when I’m supposed to know if you’re – if you’re telling the truth or not.”

“You think this is fake.” It’s not a question, and I’m not angry. I understand.

“I just think…y’know we’ve been stuck together all day, and maybe it’s just getting to your head, and – and you’re. You’re you!” He looks like he’s in denial, “You’re Gerard Way! You’re one of the most popular kids in our school, and I’m just me. Frank Iero… everyone’s worst enemy.”

I smile sadly, pushing the hair out of his eyes. “I think if you took a good look around, and let people care about you, you’d see that you’re actually everyone’s best friend. You’re _my_ best friend.”

“That’s dumb,” he shook his head. “We don’t even know each other. You have other friends.”

“I don’t know them any more than I know you.” I shrug. “And do I even _have_ to know you? I mean, I feel like I already do.” He doesn’t say anything. “Listen, if you’re worried about school on Monday… aside from you, the only opinion I care about is Mikey’s, and he thinks you’re awesome. That’s all the permission I need.”

“Permission for what?”

“To want to be with you.”

His eyes are shocked, “You mean… you actually _want_ to—”

“To be with you?” I laugh in disbelief, “Frank if you want me to engrave it on a plaque I’ll do it, but I don’t know what it’s going to take to get you to believe me.”

He still doesn’t believe me, “Things like this don’t happen in real life. I’m just kidding myself. I’m always just kidding myself.”

“Um I don’t know if you remember an hour ago when you were sitting on me, but I was about three seconds away from just…” I run my free hand through my hair and let out a frustrated noise. I want to tell him that I was three seconds away from just ripping his fucking clothes off, but I couldn’t just say that, could I?

“Maybe this is a mistake,” I say. “Maybe it’s not. I really couldn’t care less. I don’t want anything, any _one_ else, okay? Just you.”

He shakes his head, “You don’t like me, or love me. You’re feeling lust. You had the right letter, but the wrong idea.” Okay now he’s just pissing me the fuck off.

“ _Don’t_ _tell_ _me what I’m feeling_. You’re smart, and witty, and funny, and nice, and sweet, and you _care_ , and – and you’re beautiful, and I don’t know if I could live my life knowing I got so close, and let you get away.” He looks stunned, “You’re not an idiot, okay? You _know_ the definition of love. So do I. It’s not what everyone makes it out to be. It’s deep-seeded, tender, and passionate affection for someone. I love you Frank Iero, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Everything about you is.” I stop. “It’s amazing to me.”

He’s smiling warily, “How long did you rehearse _that_ one?”

“Oh, shut up,” I roll my eyes. “Actually, that came from the heart. No rehearsals needed. You should be proud.”

“I am.” He opens his mouth to say something else, but someone interrupts us.

“Hey, Gerard, are you sure you and your boyfriend don’t have to pee?”

We both look at Mikey and say, “We’re fine!” We look at each other, shocked. Did we just… I think we just. Did we just _agree_ that we’re _dating_?

“Did we just—”

“Nah, no… we didn’t. I don’t think.” Frank looks confused.

“I think you did,” Mikey says, sitting down at his table.

“Shut up!” We say. If Mikey’s back then I know that the Beckett, Ray, and Bob are close behind. I turn to Frank and I quickly say, “Right now. Today. It doesn’t have to be anything. I just want you to know, okay?” I don’t give him time to reply before I kiss him quickly and join Mikey back at our table.

Mikey’s face is smug, “You kissed Frank Iero. Pretty cool magic trick.”

“I’ll wipe that look off your face using nothing but my fist. Doesn’t _that_ seem like a pretty cool magic trick?” Once we’re all back in the room, Mr. Beckett wastes no time in telling us he’s coming back at 3:50, before he hurries out again.

“What are we supposed to do for food?” Mikey asks.

“About that…” Frank says, standing up and smirking.


	7. Celebrate How Empty Love Can Be Broken [F]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A few weeks ago my dad told me that if I did well in our next game, I’d have a full-ride scholarship to any baseball school I wanted to go to, but the thing is… I don’t even like baseball.”

“I’m all ears, and I’m all scars to hear you tell me ‘Boys like you; you try too hard

to look not quite as desperate.’ When I’m hanging on, but I still know the way to

make your make-up run. So! And when it all goes to hell

will you be able to tell me you’re sorry with a straight face?”

- _Fall Out Boy; The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes_  


* * *

Considering how fucking _huge_ the library is, it isn’t surprising to anyone who goes there that there are ten different areas that you can go to in order to just sit and chill. I lead everyone to where Gerard and I left the food, and Ray almost falls to the ground in happiness; I’m guessing the kid was just starving? Most likely. We’re all sitting in a little alcove in the side of the library; Bob, Mikey, and Ray in chairs, and Gerard and I on the couch, my legs stretched out across his lap.

Bob smiles happily, “I gotta hand it to you, Iero. That was a good job.”

I grimace, “Well golly, thanks Bob! Your approval is all I’m after.” I’m pretty proud of the amount of sarcasm I can put into my voice, because it’s a good amount, and most of the time people can’t tell if I’m being serious or not.

“Shut up, I was just trying to be nice.”

“Not your strong suit. I suggest you stick to beating up freshman and running around a baseball diamond.” Bob glares at me, but doesn’t say anything. I yawn, “I’m bored. Bob tell us why you’re in here.”

“Why does it even matter to you?”

“I’m ever so curious,” I roll my eyes.

“C’mon Bob, it can’t be _that bad_.” Ray tells him. Bob looks reluctant, and for a second I’m positive he’s going to tell me off again, but eventually he starts talking.

“A few weeks ago my dad told me that if I did well in our next game, I’d have a full-ride scholarship to any baseball school I wanted to go to, but the thing is… I don’t even like baseball.” _What_?! This is news to me! And apparently to everyone else as well because they looked just as shocked as I am.

“I asked him to give up on this stupid dream he has for me, because I want to play music. I want to be a drummer.” Bob shakes his head, “He told me it was bullshit. He told me that I wasn’t his son if I wasn’t playing baseball. He wouldn’t let me quit, so I kinda sorta brought some drugs to school and let someone find out about it. I wanted them to suspend me from the team, but my dad worked something out. I go to detention the rest of the year, I still play baseball. I told him I didn’t want to, but you don’t exactly say ‘no’ to my father.”

Everyone is silent, but I’m a little…amused. “Wow, is that what you call trials and suffering?” I scrutinize him, and swing my feet off Gerard’s lap, putting my elbows on my knees. They’re all looking at me like I’m the biggest asshole to ever exist, and I wouldn’t exactly disagree with them.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that.” Bob glares at me.

“Nothing, really,” I shrug. “I think your life sounds like a fairytale. Nice house, nice car, lots of friends, anything you want to eat at any time of the day. I don’t really see that as a problem.”

“We can’t all be you, Frank.” He sneers, “We can’t all have shit histories.”

“Well I’d have the deepest sympathy if you did, but I don’t think I have a shit history. I think my life is just fine the way it is. I don’t need a nice house or a nice car. I don’t need friends. Fuck, I don’t even need to eat. I can just steal all those things. I can buy all those things. No. What I need is sanity. I need everyone to leave me the fuck alone, and to stop thinking they know everything. You try walking a mile in my shoes. You wouldn’t last ten feet.”

“Then why don’t you tell us about it, huh?” Bob’s voice is deadly. “I want you to fucking tell us a good story of why you’re so fucked up, Iero? Huh? What the fuck makes you so special that you can parade around here acting like you fucking own this school.”

“Oh, Bob!” I purr, “I didn’t know you cared. How awfully sweet of you!” I waggle my eyebrows and get up from the couch. I go and sit on the short bookshelf and cross my legs. Once I’ve situated myself, I pull out a cigarette and light it. Ray looks like he wants to say something, but then the words died in his throat.

“I don’t.” Bob assures me, gritting his teeth. “But please, be my guest!” He’s so fucking sarcastic; I love it.

I smile deviously at them, but I won’t look at Gerard. After this… I’m not sure he’ll feel the same way he says he did an hour ago. I take a drag off my cigarette and clear my throat, “Okay, once upon a time there was this boy named Francis Anthony Iero.”


	8. The Tragic Tale of Francis Anthony Iero [G]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I really don’t like this story…I think I might actually throw up out of how sick this is making me feel, and I can see that Ray and Mikey don’t like this story either. Ray has tears in his eyes. So does Mikey.

“I never loved nobody fully; always one foot on the ground.

And by protecting my heart truly I got lost in the sounds.

I hear in my mind all these voices. I hear in my mind all these words.

I hear in my mind all this music, and it breaks my heart.”

- _Regina Spektor; Fidelity_  


* * *

He clears his throat, “Okay, once upon a time there was this boy named Francis Anthony Iero.” Uh oh, I already don’t like the sound of this story. Nothing good ever comes out of Frank being snarky and polite at the same time. “Now, Francis was pretty scrawny, he was pretty reckless, and more oft then not, he got sick, like, all the fucking time.” He takes a drag of the cigarette and looks into the distance. “When Francis was in elementary school, he had no friends, got pushed into garbage cans, and locked in closets with all the cobwebs and spiders. And even though Francis was born on Halloween, he was so deathly afraid of spiders, that one time, in 5th grade, he purposely cut himself to take his mind off the fact that he was locked in a closet that was _really_ dusty, full of spiders, and would probably give him bronchitis.”

I was right. I immediately decide that I don’t like this story.

“Now, that one time in 5th grade, well, nobody really found out about that! He could lie! Shrug it off, right? Nobody would notice! So when he got into middle school, and all the other kids started to call him a fag and beat him up, he figured _Hey! I can cut myself all I fucking want and no one will notice! Because, let’s face it, nobody cares!_ ”

Oh, I really don’t like this story…I think I might actually throw up out of how sick this is making me feel, and I can see that Ray and Mikey don’t like this story either. Ray has tears in his eyes. So does Mikey.

Wait. I may love him, but that is the final straw. Fucking _nobody_ makes my brother cry, “Frank…” I say seriously.

“Oh, but I’m just getting to the best part!” Then Frank acts all excited, and bounces up and down while taking a drag off the cigarette, “One time another boy named Robert Bryar gave him a swirly, broke his nose, dislocated his jaw, kicked him in the stomach a few times, and then left Francis the bathroom, turning off the lights behind him. And If I’m recalling the story correctly, I think that was the day Francis decided that, first of all, Francis was a fucking stupid name, and he wanted to be called _Frank_ from then on. Second, he decided that the entire human race could burn in the fiery pits of Hell for all he cared because, pfft, nobody fucking paid attention to him, none of them could be trusted, and they were all evil.”

I regret saying anything in the first place.

“I got beat up, I mean, _he_ got beat up every day. At school the teachers turned their backs when they saw the bruises.” He laughs bitterly and stabs his cigarette out on the shelf before throwing it away. “At home, it wasn’t any better, and this is the last part, I swear, Princess,” he looks at me, but I look away. “At home? Yeah, no, I can’t really tell this part because, wow! The place that Frank Anthony Iero goes to every night to sleep (even though he’s afraid to) and _maybe_ eat something definitely cannot be considered a home. Alcoholic parents who fight all the time, and will tell him how fucking full of shit he is, and how worthless he is, and that he’s a mistake. Alcoholic parents who will beat him with anything from a ruler to a baseball bat—those are the worst!” He’s smiling, but it’s covering such a deep-seeded need for love, a need for attention, a need for a _friend_. It makes my heart hurt.

He holds up a finger, and then digs his wallet out of his pocket, searching for something. He pulls out eight bracelets, but I can’t tell what they’re for or what they’re from. “Two of these are from the New Jersey Institution for the Clinically Insane. It’s where Frank went after earning the six other bracelets from New Jersey St. Mary’s Hospital after he attempted to kill himself.” I felt my heart practically leap out of my throat; this is the most heart-wrenching thing I’d ever listened to, and for once in my life, I started to see Frank Iero as he really was; a scared little boy.

“It was different every time. Pills. Alcohol. Slitting his wrists. Attempting to jump in front of moving traffic. And purposely pissing his parents off enough that they’d actually kill him.” Frank nods as he tucks the bracelets back in the wallet and puts it safely away. “So then Frank got detention and decided to go for once, and got stuck with some fuck-off dickwad asshats to whom he told his entire life story. And they all lived happily ever after…except for the mental scaring of the traumatic events of a seventeen-year-old kid’s life.” He looks really worked up…even _he’s_ got tears in his eyes, and I can’t believe that I’m seeing _Frank Iero_ cry. Ray is sobbing so hard I think he needs to breathe into a bag, and Mikey looks like he’s about to make a suicide pact with Frank.

Bob’s face is pale, and he looks uneasy. “Frank…I had—”

“No idea?” He finishes bitterly. “Well, the more you know.” Then he jumps off the bookshelf and walks away. I’m so numb that I don’t even register that Frank isn’t there anymore.

I’m so numb I can’t cry.

I’m so numb… that I feel everything. What feels like centuries later—but is probably ten seconds—I get up and run after him. I can tell he doesn’t want to be found, because it takes me ten minutes to actually find him. He’s in another tiny alcove somewhere on the other side of the library, and he’s sobbing.

I don’t even hesitate before sitting down next to him and wrapping myself around him, pulling him as close as possible. He doesn’t resist either. In fact, he attaches himself to me, throwing his arms around my waist and burying his face in the crook of my neck.

“Shh, Frank.” I stroke his hair and kiss the top of his head. “It’s okay, Frank. It’s okay.” His crying is a bit softer now, and he takes a deep shuttering breath. “Shh. I’m here, Frankie. You’re fine. You’re safe. It’s okay.” He’s almost silent now, and I can feel his fingers picking at the back of my shirt. He’s deep in thought, and I don’t want to distract him so I just keep stroking hair and holding him as tight as possible.

Ten minutes later he’s not crying but his arms are still around me and he takes a deep breath. I kiss the top of his head again and say, “You okay Frankie?” He doesn’t say anything so I pull him away and look him in the eye. They’re red and puffy and he still has a few tears left. I smile softly and wipe them away before leaning forward and kissing his forehead. “I will never leave you,” I mumble against his skin.

I pull away again and his eyes are wide with wonder. I stroke my thumb over his cheek and smile again. “Never, Frankie. I promise.”

He shakes his head, “You can’t promise that.”

I let my hand fall and make a frustrated noise, “Frank Anthony Iero, do _not_ make me get down on one knee and ask you to marry me because I’ll do it!” He smiles tiredly. “I’m not leaving. You can try to get rid of me all you want, but I’m sticking around. Sorry.” I shrug. Frank situates himself so that he’s curled up in a tiny ball, and I hug him.

“Were you serious?” He asks me after a second. I give him a confused look. “When you – when you said you loved me? I mean, it just seems so implausible. We don’t even know each other.”

“Of course I was serious.” I frown at him, “Besides, you’d be surprised to know there is very little about you that I don’t know.”

“Oh really, now?” He doesn’t believe me.

“Really.”

“When’s my birthday?”

“October 31st.”

“My favourite food?”

I scrunch up his nose, “You really like apples.”

Frank smiles, “Favourite colour?”

“Depends on the season. You like green when it’s cold outside and black when it’s hot… which seems a bit backwards to me but whatever.” I shrug.

“Favourite animal?”

“Puppies.”

“Book?”

“Frankenstein.”

“Monster movie?”

“Evil Dead. Or Creature From the Black Lagoon.”

“Comic?”

“Doom Patrol.”

“Superhero?”

“Ugh… Aquaman. I don’t understand that. He’s so pathetic!”

“That’s why I like him so much, he’s so fucking useless!” Frank rolls his eyes, and then he just looks at me. I squirm a bit and he smiles, “I don’t know anything about you.”

“I’m sure you know _something_ about me.”

“I know you’re sexy as fuck but other than that.” He shrugs and I feel my face get very red, very fast.

“I-I don’t – I’m sure you. I don’t,” I can’t make words. Did Frank really just call _me_ sexy? What the fuck?! That’s not even a thing! “I’m sure there’s something.”

“Doubt it.”

“When’s my birthday?”

“April 9th.”

“Favourite food?”

“Trick question. You don’t have a favorite food. You like coffee.”

“Favourite colour, movie, animal, comic book, superhero?”

“Red, Harry Potter 4, penguins, Doom Patrol, Batman.” He cocks his head to the side and looks at me. My heart skips a beat because _why_ are his eyes so perfect? “Huh,” he says. “I guess I do know some stuff about you.”

“There you go! There are things about you that I can’t stand, and things that I love. There are things I think you could improve on and things I think you’re perfect at, but in the end I still think you’re amazing.” I smile at him, “That’s what real love is. It’s not loving someone perfect, it’s loving someone perfectly.”

He smiles at me and leans forwards very slowly until out lips meet, but only just. I want _so much more_ , but I’m not going to push him. “Frank, I want you to know that this invitation will always stand. When you’re ready, I’m waiting.”

He smiles against my lips, “Waiting for what?” He kisses me, deeper this time; slower. More intentional and suggestive than light and playful.

“You,” I breathe against his lips. That seems to be all it takes for him to push me on my back and settle himself between my legs, and holy shit… there’s this intense burning desire that’s just sitting in my stomach, and it’s only growing by the second with the pressure of Frank against me. It seems like it only takes me seconds before I’m rock hard and whining embarrassingly in a desperate need for him to just _touch me_.

Frank takes my tongue in his mouth, sucking on it slowly, and rubs his hand over my straining hard-on. I moan and thrust up into his hand. He laughs and smiles, pulling back to watch my face before attaching his mouth to my neck, and applies more pressure on my dick. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” I pant, “You don’t even know.”

“Oh, then I guess it’s such a shame you’re going to have to wait even longer.” And before I can even _think_ to say ‘ _What?!_ ’ he’s off of me.

I sit up and glare at him, “You’re such a fricken tease.”

He giggles—actually fucking _giggles_ —before leaning forward and kissing me sensually, but he’s gone just as soon as he came, and I’m damning him to Hell for the rest of eternity because why the _fuck_ is he such a bad human being? “Sorry,” but he doesn’t look sorry at all.

“I didn’t believe that for one goddamned second,” I mutter. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom to take care of some _unfinished business_.”

I quickly stand up and start to walk away, but a second later I feel Frank grab my arm and spin me around, pinning me against the wall. He pushes against me and runs his hands all over me. He slips a knee between my legs and thrusts against me, breathing hard against my neck. I moan again and thrust back against him. His hands force my hips against the wall, his fingers gripping hard enough to leave bruises. He kisses my neck, and between those kisses he says, “You don’t come until I say so, and you’ll _only_ come under my fingers.”

“Oh. My. _God_.” I groan. _I’m going to fucking come right_ now _if he doesn’t fucking **stop**_. “There’s not much I can do about it if you keep doing _that_!”

And almost instantaneously, Frank isn’t touching me. He’s hovering inches away from me and breathing just as hard as I am. He gives me a once over, eyes bright with excitement, “You come before I say so, and I’ll never touch you again.” And suddenly I can find it within myself to not even have the urge to come anymore. In fact, I have a personal reserve to not even _think_ about coming until Frank says so. This pain is ten times better than Frank never touching me again.

“You certainly do know how to make a guy feel special,” I comment, still breathing hard. He’s very quiet, and he’s just staring at me; not angry or anything like that. Almost like he’s thinking. He’s thinking _very hard_ about something.

“Gee I—” he stops himself abruptly. “I’m not sure how this all works, but I trust you. Can I trust you?” I nod slowly. “Because the heart is a delicate thing, and I can’t trust someone who—”

I roll my eyes and lean forward, carefully placing my lips over his. When I pull back I smile and stroke the side of his face, “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

He laughs, “No, actually.” Then his smile melts away, “Trust is more important than anything else in my life. It’s all I want from somebody that I…” he hesitates. “It’s all I want from someone I…” his face grows frustrated. “Gerard. I love you.”

Oh my God did he just say that?


	9. Heart on Lockdown [F]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Whatever,” Bob mutters. “Fuck you guys.”

“I wanna scream ‘I love you’ from the top of my lungs, but I’m afraid that someone else’ll hear me.

You can only blame your problems on the world for so long before it all becomes the same old song.”

- _ _Fall Out Boy; The (Shipped) Gold Standard__

* * *

Oh my God did I just say that? Yes, I do think I definitely just said that. I just confessed, for the first time in my entire life, that I love someone. It feels strange to say. I’m not used to things like that; love and all that jazz. Right now, more than ever, I’m unsure and completely positive that I mean it.

Part of me wants to run away and cry and break a bunch of shit for saying something so stupid, but another part of me wants nothing more than to be with Gerard. I think I’m just scared of being hurt. Everyone hurts me eventually, what makes Gerard so different? Well I love him… that’s different from anyone else.

I can tell Gerard is just as shocked as I am by this sudden confession because his face is completely freaked. I sigh and run a hand through my hair, “I-I’m sorry, Gee I just…” Gerard lurches forward and kisses me. I stumble backwards, utterly confused because _what_?!

“Don’t you _ever_ apologize to me for _anything_ , okay?” He grabs my face and his eyes are searching mine for… for something. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me that you love me. If you’re going to say it, I want you to mean it. I want you to say it when _you_ want to say it.”

I swallow hard and nod silently. He smiles and strokes his thumb over my cheek. “I love you, Frankie. I’ll wait for you. I’ll always wait for you.” I can’t find my voice to say anything, so I just step forward, wrapping my arms around him and laying my head on his shoulder. This… this feels so right. Gerard feels right.

He feels natural.

I feel like I’m finally getting that missing part in my life. It’s like half of my soul had been missing and I finally found it, and I’ve been living without it for so long that I don’t know how to use it. I don’t know what to do with it. I’m scared of it. I’m scared of what it might do to me because I spent so long putting up this wall that _nobody_ could get through, and here’s Gerard Way—my Princess—simply knocking on it once and breaking it down. I don’t know how he did it, but I admire that he did, and I’m glad someone could rescue me, because I don’t know what I’d do if I just sat and rotted behind that stupid wall.

Gerard takes my hand and pulls me toward the couch. He lays down and I immediately lay down with him, like I’m on auto-pilot. I rest my head on his chest and throw my arm around his waist. His hand is tangled in my hair and it feels so…

I close my eyes and breathe in deeply; Gerard smells like so many different things that I can’t decide if I hate it or love it. I smell coffee, I smell paint thinner. I smell flowers and cold air and _sunshine_. I smell soap and laundry detergent. I smell cigarettes – wait, what?! Why do I smell _cigarettes_ on _Gerard Way_?! I want to ask him about it but there’s something about him, something about the heat radiating off of him that lulls me into a state of comatose.

When I open my eyes I feel cold, and I’m alone. I look around, confused, and yawn. I stand up and stretch a little. When I check the clock, it reads 3:00; I was only asleep for an hour. But where’s Gerard? I feel almost hurt that he left me all alone, but the second I take another step, I almost run into Gerard who was coming around the corner. He looks frightened for a second, but then his fear melts into a peaceful smile.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out and pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. “I definitely would have stayed a few minutes longer, but I _really_ had to pee.” I laugh and then smell something funny. I take a step back and smirk at him.

“Since when did you smoke?” His face gets really red and he scratches the back of his head. I could tell that the last thing he wanted to do was ruin my “perfect” picture of him; like, he’s my fucking _Princess_! He can’t just smoke whenever he wants! Except, he totally can. I actually think it’s really fucking sexy.

“Uh,” he bites his lip and I stare in fascination. “I don’t know?” He laughs and then I laugh and take his hand, slowly leading him back to where Bob, Mikey, and Ray were. I stuff my other hand in my pocket and give him a sidelong glance. “You don’t remember when you started to let nicotine and toilet-bowl cleaner into your system on a regular basis in the form of an inhalant?”

He smirks, “Okay, fine. About two years ago or so.”

“Interesting…” I raise my eyebrows at him and smile.

“What about you?” He asks when we turn a corner. “When did you start?”

“Um…” Oh, now _that’s_ a difficult thing to remember. I don’t know if I’d tell Gerard what I’d gotten into in my younger years, but that is around the time I started smoking (more than one thing), drinking (lots and _lots_ of things), and staying out all night (at many, many places). “Three years ago? Four? I don’t know.”

He gapes at me, “Holy crap, Frank. You started smoking when you 13?!” Oh yeah that sounds right. Thirteen? Twelve? Somewhere around there.

“Something like that, yeah.” That’s around the time that we reached the other guys and they were in the middle of an intense game of Clue and didn’t notice that we had joined them. It wasn’t until I had walked around all of them, stared at their cards, and then whispered to Mikey, “It’s Bob… try Bob.”

“Damnit, Frank!” Bob says, standing up and throwing his cards on the table. “I was winning, you little shit! I was _winning_!” He was actually _fuming_ and I couldn’t help but start laughing. I point at him and between my giggles I manage to say, “Your face, though! I wish you could see your face!” Gerard was laughing behind his hand, and Mikey was chuckling a bit too.

“Whatever,” Bob mutters. “Fuck you guys.”

I roll my eyes at him, “Not even in your wildest dreams.” Bob just glares at me, and I don’t really blame him. He’s just so easy to make fun of! He lets stuff get to him when he really shouldn’t.

I take a seat beside Mikey and smile at him, “Hey, how’re you doing?”

He nods once, “I’m okay…” then he glances at Gerard and back at me. “Are you dating my brother?” And everyone just kinda stops. I don’t know if it’s because I can read Gerard so well, or if it’s because Mikey is transparent, but I can see in his fucking _eyes_ ; he knows exactly what he’s saying, and what he’s doing, and he’s doing it on _purpose_! That. Little. Fuck.

I hesitate and look at Ray and Bob. They’re both expectant, but Bob is trying to hide his interest. Stupid Bob. I can see right through you. Then I look at Gerard and his face is embarrassed and extremely sorry. I smile at him fondly and then look at Mikey.

“Yes,” I say. “I am dating your brother.” Bob looks somewhat pleased and shocked while Ray looks a little… sad? What the fuck is that about? And then I look at Gerard and he looks – well, I don’t really know how he looks. He looks shocked, scared, ecstatic, upset, hopeful and, above all, he looks like he’s in love.

Mikey smiles, “Good. You’re cool, Frank. I like you.”  Well that is incredibly relieving to hear; if Gerard liked me, that was enough, but if Mikey liked me too? That seals the deal, dude! I think… I think I’ve decided that I really do, truly, want to be with Gerard. I _do_ love him and I wouldn’t mind being in love with him for the rest of my life. Actually, I think I’m already there. 


	10. Coming Down the Home Stretch [G]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looks utterly shocked, “You want me in your house?!”

“More to the point, I need to show how much I can come and go.

Other plans fell through and put a heavy load on you, I know.

There’s no more than need be said, when I’m inching through your bed.

Take a look around instead and watch me go.”

- _ _Panic! At the Disco; New Perspective__

* * *

I spent the rest of the time in the library just sitting next to Frank, leaning into his side, holding his hand, and thinking about what he said. I am dating Frank Iero… what? I mean, it makes me happier than any other thing in my life ever has but – I just. I feel like it’s too good to be true. I’m just waiting to wake up or for him to disappear. I know it’s not healthy to think like that, but I can’t help it.

When we only have about ten minutes left, we all separate again—both Frank and I feeling sad because we can’t be next to each other—and sit at our different tables. I pull out my piece of paper and jot down a few lines of nonsense and shove it aside, feeling a little depressed. Well, more than a _little_.

All I could really do was think about Frank, and that kid made me feel so many different things that it was almost impossible. My heart breaks for him and his family situation, I’m ecstatic when I think about the fact that I’m in love with him, I’m a little angry that my pants are suffocating me, and I’m very content with my life at the moment. Now that Frank is in it, that is.

I don’t even hear when Mr. Beckett comes in, but I tune in automatically when I hear Frank say, “Oh my! Thank the fucking _Lord_ that you’re back. I was missing you desperately.” And, yeah sure, maybe it was immature and disrespectful, but my views on Frank Iero have drastically changed in the past few hours and I couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped me.

Beckett’s head snapped in my direction and I felt my eyes getting wide; I don’t want to die. Not yet… not now. Not before I get Frank naked. Not even after that because I know I’ll want to do it (him) again. “Have something to say, Mr. Way?”

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Before I can even get the chance to apologize profusely, Frank is dragging the attention away from me and I am eternally grateful, as well as a little peeved that he’s getting in trouble to save my sorry ass. “Oh, Gerard has nothing to say!” Frank exclaims, leaning forward on the desk, his chin resting on the palms of his hands. “He’s been a very good boy, Mr. Beckett. I promise that he hasn’t said ‘one word’ since you left! He’s a perfect role model.”

“Well isn’t that just fantastic to hear,” Beckett sneers sarcastically. Frank shrugs and leans back in his seat, quickly looking at me and winking. I can feel my face get hot and I look down at my hands in my lap to avoid the look on anyone’s face. I shake my head a bit and let me hair fall in front of my face. I’m beaming into my lap, and it’s a little ridiculous when you take into consideration the fact that Frank just got into huge trouble for me. He really didn’t have to do that. But, of course, that’s why he did it.

“I certainly think so.”

“Nobody asked your opinion, Mr. Iero,” Beckett glares at Frank who just shrugs again and smirks slightly. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with that kid; he’s amazing in every sense of the word, but he really is trouble. Not for me, but for every authority figure he will ever come across.

“Nobody asked for yours either, but you felt the need to contribute anyway.”

“Why you no good—”

“Mr. Beckett…” I interrupt, standing and looking at him. “It’s 3:51 and my parents are very punctual people. If I’m not home in the next ten minutes, they will be filing a law suit.” And the thing is, I’m not even lying. My parents are fucking crazy! They don’t really give a shit about me or Mikey but they care about upholding their image as a “perfect” family… even given Mikey’s condition.

“Then I suggest you get going, Mr. Way,” he grits through his teeth. I smile bitterly and grab Mikey’s shoulder, hoisting him out of his seat and pulling him toward the door. I don’t have to look behind me to know that everyone else has decided to follow suit and just get the fuck out of there.

“Mikey get in the car,” I say quietly, handing him the keys. Mikey nods without a second thought and walks towards our car that is parked in the lot across the street.

“Princess!” I recognize the voice and the nickname that is being shouted at me, and I turn around just in time to see Frank walking down the steps of the school and directly towards me. When he’s in front of me, he stops and shoves his hands in his pocket, looking at me nervously, “So… about earlier—”

Before he can finish, I lean forward and kiss him very carefully. When I pull back I see that his eyes are closed, and I take his hand in mine, smiling at him lovingly. “Do you want to come over?”

He looks utterly shocked, “ _You_ want _me_ in your _house_?!”

I see the opportunity to say something witty and I grab it faster than I can actually comprehend. I smirk, “I want you in my house, in the library, in an alley, in the hallways, in my bedroom, and in the shower… but I also want to take you to my house, if that’s okay?”

His face is a light shade of pink and I’m internally fist-bumping my Severely-Suppressed-Love-Life-Conscious. “Y-yeah,” he stutters, looking down at his feet. “That’s okay, I guess.”

I start to pull him towards the car, “Don’t sound too excited.”

He groans, “Oh, c’mon Gee—”

“Frankie,” I sigh, looking at him. “It’s okay. I’m kidding.”

“I don’t like it,” he says plainly. I smile because I had been waiting for him to finally turn from ‘I’m-Shy-Please-Don’t-Pick-On-Me’ back to his original ‘Don’t-Fuck-With-Me-You-Bitch-Ass-Punk-Or-I’ll-Fuck-You-Up-Real-Bad’ and I now see that that has happened.

“I’m sorry,” I smile at him. When we reach the car I gesture towards Mikey, “Mikey has already called shotgun, so I hope you’re okay with riding in the back…” He shrugs apathetically and I roll my eyes, moving to the driver’s side of the car. I hop in, turn the car on, and make sure that everything is in order—I have Mikey, my seat belt, my wallet, my jacket, my boyfriend… heh, my boyfriend. I’m not going to get used to that any time soon.

“Frank is coming with us?” Mikey asks, staring at something outside that I’m not quite seeing.

“Yes,” I pull forward through the parking lot and out onto the street. “He certainly is…” I look in the rearview mirror and catch his eye; he’s smirking and raising one eyebrow. I can’t help the girly butterflies in my stomach or my face turning pink. I definitely can’t stop the involuntary smile or rolling of the eyes. The ride was silent with plenty of stolen glances between Frank and I and a few snorts and eye rolls produced from the passenger’s seat.

When we reach my house, I pull into the driveway and Mikey immediately hops out. Frank takes his sweet ass time unbuckling the seat belt, opening the door, getting out, closing the door, and walking around the car. I was actually a little impressed; he turned a five second activity into a 30 second one. He stops in front of me and bites his bottom lip a little and I’m then reminded of my earlier problem in the library.

I smile painfully, “Are you okay?”

“No?” He gives me a look as if I’m a fucking idiot because I didn’t realize that _of course he’s not okay_!

I carefully grab his hand, “I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head and puts his other hand in his pocket. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Princess.” And damn! I was really hoping he’d dropped that nickname… although, now it has quite a different meaning to it especially considering that I am now _dating Frank fucking Iero_ —Jesus Christ, I’ll never get over that.

“C’mon,” I pull him towards the door. “My parents aren’t home yet.” As I close the door, he gives me a suggestive look and I blush slightly. “That’s not exactly what I meant, but I will gladly do whatever you want at this current moment.”

“I’ll think about it,” Frank says nodding and looking around my actually-rather-plain-looking house. “For now… just entertain me.” He smirks and my face gets even more red than before.

“I’ll just, like, show you my room or something.” I shrug and lead him down the hall to the door that reveals the basement staircase. I’m about to go down it when Mikey passes behind Frank and me and says, “No sex in the house.”

“Mikey!” I bark at him, throwing him my most intimidating glare—which really isn’t all that intimidating when you take into consideration that the only way I’d get angry is if the people I cared about were hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry and still continuing on down the hall. “I _meant_ to say, ‘Keep your sex in the basement’.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” Frank says sarcastically.

I turn red out of embarrassment and hide my face slightly. Mikey stops at the end of the hall and turns to look at Frank with a thoughtful expression. He points to Frank and smiles slightly, “You get me, bro.”

“Bro, I get you.” Then everyone smiles slightly before parting ways. If you had to walk down my basement steps, you might start to wonder if you’re heading to the center of the Earth. There are so many stairs and it’s so dark that you can’t even see the landing until you’re on the fifth-last step (that the fifth last step… it’s about fifty steps away from the fifth step). It seems almost impossible that my house contains a sixty step staircase that leads to the basement. People don’t really come down there unless they have to, solely due to the fact that they don’t want to have to climb the stairs.

We literally have a fucking note-drop-box that goes from the top of the stairs all the way to the bottom because it’s pointless to try and yell down them.

“Dude,” Frank says when we finally reach the bottom. “Do you live in fucking Narnia or something?”

“Nope,” I smile and pull him towards the center of my room. “I live in New Jersey. Definitely not as cool as Narnia… but definitely more dangerous.”

Frank actually fucking _giggles_ at that and jumps on my bed, landing flat on his stomach among the soft blankets, and takes a deep shuddering breath. I don’t know if he’s fucking smelling my blankets or something, but I really just kinda want to…

“Hey Princess,” I hear Frank’s muffled voice from my pillow. I don’t respond, but he knows I’m listening. “Can we watch a movie?” I laugh and shrug off my jacket and shoes, leaving them at the bottom of the stairs. Frank rolls over on my bed and kicks his shoes onto the floor, putting his hands behind his head, smiling happily at me.

“Whatever you want, Frank.” I sit on the bed by his feet and grab the remote, turning on the DVD player and the TV. The first thing that comes up is the ‘PAUSE’ screen for ‘The Evil Dead’ and I remember that Mikey and I fell asleep watching that last night. I smile slightly and then look at Frank, “This okay?”

“Pfft,” Frank sits up and smiles like a little girl. “Are you kidding me?! You know I fucking love this movie!” I roll my eyes and restart the movie, settling back against the pillows up against the wall. Almost instantly, Frank joins me, settling into my side and resting his cheek on my shoulder, entwining our fingers. A few minutes into the movie, Frank mumbles into my shoulder, “Hey, Gee?”

“Yes?” I don’t move my eyes from the screen.

“Can I kiss you?”


	11. You Are Mine [N/A]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Someone’s eager,” Frank mumbles against Gerard’s lips.
> 
> “You have no fucking idea.”

Here we are again, I feel the chemicals kickin' in. It's getting heavy,

and I wanna run and hide. I wanna run and hide; I do it every time.

You're killin' me now, and I won't be denied by you—the animal inside of you.

- _ _Neon Trees; Animals__

* * *

“Can I kiss you?” Frank mumbled into Gerard’s shirt. Gerard, who is absolutely puzzled by the question, doesn’t reply. He just kinda sits there with a blank mind, trying to process what was just said to him. Why the fuck would Frank ask to kiss him? Why wouldn’t he just, like, kiss him? Is Frank still worried about their relationship? Does he think Gerard is having second thoughts? What’s the deal?!

So many questions are running through Gerard’s head that it starts to hurt a little, and Frank gets a little tired of waiting for an answer; he sits up, puts his hand under Gerard’s chin, turns his head, and leans forward to kiss him very softly. It’s just barely a brush of the lips, but Frank realizes he wants… no, he _needs_ more.

He presses forward, slowly moving his lips against Gerard’s and shuddering slightly when Gerard puts a hand on his waist. Cautiously, without breaking lip contact, Frank scoots backward and lays down, taking Gerard with him. He feels Gerard’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip and eagerly opens his mouth. There is a slight moment where they battle for dominance, but ultimately, Gerard gives in and just lets Frank kiss the _fuck_ out of him.

Due to earlier circumstances, it’s quite understandable the speed and intensity of the heat wave in the lower region of their bodies. Gerard is so horny and wanting that his entire dick is as hard as possible and it kinda hurts a lot. Frank is almost as bad and smirks against Gerard’s lips when he puts his hands on Gerard’s hips and pulls them down, earning him a light moan.

With some kind of magic, Frank rolls over and switches their positions, straddling Gerard’s hips and trailing his fingers down Gerard’s chest. When they reach the hem of his shirt, they teasingly slip in and out from under the material until Gerard gets frustrated and arches into Frank’s touch, forcing the palm of Frank’s hand to lay flat against his stomach.

“Someone’s eager,” Frank mumbles against Gerard’s lips.

“You have no fucking idea.”

With a surprised gasp, Frank pulls back and looks down at Gerard with wide eyes. At first Gerard is confused, but then remembers their earlier conversation. He figures that it must be due to the fact that he’s at home and he’s used to swearing at home, whereas in school he refrains greatly from any kind of bad language.

Frank is still staring down at Gerard, taking in the blown and dilated pupils, the flush of his perfectly smooth cheeks, slightly wet and shiny pink lips, and of course the absolutely flawless hair that sticks up in a billion different directions. If it were possible, Frank’s dick would have been even harder.

“Fuck,” Frank breathes, kissing Gerard and moaning against his lips. “You’re so fucking sexy when you swear.” Gerard smiles slightly and wraps his arms around Frank’s waist, pulling him even closer than he already was. Frank’s thighs tighten around Gerard’s hips and he whimpers at the friction.

“Shit,” Gerard breathes, grabbing Frank’s ass and pulling down, grinding up against him, kissing his way down Frank’s jaw and stopping at his collarbone and nipping lightly. Frank’s hips stutter and he moans, his breath hot against the shell of Gerard’s ear. Gerard gives Frank’s neck a light kiss, “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.” However, Frank has another idea.

“Oh no, Princess,” Frank smirks and his fingers fall on the button of Gerard’s pants and rest there. He pulls back and stares down at Gerard, breathing heavily. “Can I?” Gerard’s eyes go wide.

“Yes,” he nods furiously. “Fuck yes! Fuck—” he bats Frank’s hands away and undoes the button himself, pulling down the zipper. From there, Frank takes over, pulling down Gerard’s pants. Very slowly, his fingers ghost over Gerard’s hip bones and twitch slightly as he gets closer to what he’s really looking for. “Frank… what’re you—”

“Shh!” Frank puts his index finger over Gerard’s mouth, still staring down at the bulge in Gerard’s boxers. Gerard gives him a confused look and Frank starts to move backwards, his finger dragging down Gerard’s chin and chest. Without warning, Frank leans forward and nuzzles his face in the crook of Gerard’s thigh, breathing in deeply. Gerard gasps and instantly tangles his fingers in Frank’s hair.

“Frankie,” Gerard moans breathily. “Frankie please…”

“Patience,” Frank mumbles into the fabric of Gerard’s boxers. The vibration of his voice shoots thorough Gerard. He makes a sound of infuriation and looks down at Frank, tugging on his hair a little.

“Francis. Anthony. Iero.” Gerard growls—he actually sounds intimidating and Frank is getting really turned on by it—and glares at him. “Cut the shit, motherfucker. _I_ want _your_ mouth on _my_ dick within the next three goddamned seconds or so help me I will shove my hand so far down your fucking throat that you—” He’s cut off by the sound of himself making a strangling sound and his eyes rolling back into his head as Frank’s hot, wet mouth carefully skirts over the fabric of his boxers, gently outlining his cock with the tip of his tongue.

Without a second thought, Frank grabs the elastic of Gerard’s boxers and yanks them down. Gerard gasps as his dick slaps his stomach and Frank reaches out and cautiously grabs the base of his cock. Just sitting there and examining Gerard’s dick, Frank has come to realize that Gerard is… fucking huge. And gorgeous! Frank has seen his fair share of dicks before this, and Gerard is easily the most impressive.

“ _Frank_ ,” Gerard whimpers pathetically. Frank experimentally swipes the tip of Gerard’s cock with his tongue and revels in the absolutely beautiful sound it elicits. Not only does Gerard _look_ beautiful, he _tastes_ even better. Frank then wastes no time taking in as much as he can, pressing his tongue to the back side of Gerard’s cock. And if just _licking_ Gerard made him produce the most amazing sound ever, then this produced the most prophetic string of profanities that Frank has ever heard.

“Oh shit. Oh fuck,” Gerard is mewling like a porn star and Frank wants nothing more than to touch himself, but he’s waiting for the right time. “Goddamnit, Motherfuck! Holy Jesus Christ! Shitshitshit, fuckfuckfuckfuck. Fuck me, fuck _me_.”

“I may be aggressive,” Frank says after pulling off Gerard’s dick with a _pop_. He slowly moves his hand up and down, flicking his thumb over the head and twisting his wrist. “But just for future reference,” Frank smiles slyly, “I don’t top.” Then his mouth once again engulfs Gerard’s cock, sucking furiously and using his hand to squeeze every time Frank backed off and release when he went down.

“Mother—I don’t… Jesus fucking Christ! Fuck! Yeah, yeah, fuck, faster Frankie, fuck yeah, just like that, oh my _God_ you are perfect.” Frank wants to smile but he can just tell that Gerard is _so fucking close_ … which is just where Frank wants him. Gerard bucks his hips again and Frank decides it’s time to stop. He pulls off and sits up, still stroking Gerard gently. “ _Why?!_ ” Gerard almost cries. “ _Why_ did you _stop?!_ ”

“Because I have something in mind,” Frank gives him a shit eating grin before he pulls down his pants faster than he ever has before, boxers included, and leans over Gerard and kisses him roughly. Before Gerard can even _think_ to say something, he’s pouring moan after moan into Frank’s mouth when Frank wraps his hand around both of their cocks and starts to get them off as fast as possible. Their skin slides together, hips rutting uncontrollably, mouths molding together like one perfect puzzle.

“Fuck,” Gerard moans.

“You wanna know what I wanna do?” Frank starts to suck on Gerard’s neck.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes,” Gerard breathes into Frank’s hair.

“In the middle of the night,” Frank places a kiss on his collarbone, “I want to sneak into your house,” another kiss to his jaw, “and I want you,” behind the ear, “to fuck me so hard that I can’t even see straight.”

Gerard lets out the most amazing sound that Frank has ever heard and goes still. His orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks and it’s one of the best—if not _the_ best—he’s ever had in his entire life. The look on Gerard’s face, and the feeling of the come spurting onto his stomach, is what pushed Frank over the edge and he bites his lower lip to stifle the obscenely loud noise that wanted to work its way out into the open air. Through both of their orgasms, Frank strokes both of them the entire time, and when they’re both finished, Frank falls onto the space next to Gerard.

Frank starts to suck the come off of his fingers and Gerard can’t help but notice how fucking sexy it looks, “Jesus Christ, Frankie,” Gerard breathes, pulling the younger boy closer and kissing him lazily.

“You taste like pineapples,” Frank murmurs against Gerard’s lips. “I like it a lot. I will definitely be giving you many, _many_ more blowjobs in the near and far future.”

“You plan on sticking around that long?”

“I plan on sticking around until I grow old and fucking _die_.”

“Good,” Gerard pants, still out of breath, “because otherwise I’d have to kidnap you, and that isn’t very attractive at all.”

“Baby,” Frank smirks, throwing his arm around Gerard and laying his head on his chest, “You can kidnap me anytime you want. Make sure you use handcuffs.” They lay in silence for a few seconds before Frank giggles and traces the curve of Gerard’s hips.

“What?” Gerard asks.

“I do believe I promised to make you swear before the end of the day.”

“Oh fuck you,” Gerard groans, covering his face with his hands.

“You will, Gee.” Frank says, craning his head up to kiss him. “You will.”

 

**THE END…**

for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! It's over! :D
> 
> I hope you guys like what I did... I hope it was worth the wait.


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